TREVOR  LORDSHIP 


BY 
MRS.   HUBERT  BARCLAY 


Nefo  Iforfe 

THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1911 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1911, 
BT  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  February,  1911.     Reprinted 
March,  1911. 


Nortoooli 

J.  8.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  <fe  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


Jfatbec 


21S4S10 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEX  PAGK 

L  NIGHT  THOUGHTS 1 

II.  ENTER  —  THE  BRIDEGROOM 12 

III.  A  TURN  IN  THE  ROAD 23 

IV.  'TREVOR  LORDSHIP'     .......  35 

V.  LAVENDER 46 

VI.  AN  INTERVIEW 58 

VII.  Two  GIRLS  AND  A  DOG 70 

VIII.  FRESH  FIELDS  AND  PASTURES  NEW  ....  80 

IX.  A  CONVERSATION  AND  A  MEETING     ....  98 

X.  NEW  INTERESTS 117 

XI.  A  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR 131 

XII.  A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW 144 

XIII.  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  SPRING 155 

XIV.  WORDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING 168 

XV.  LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM 182 

XVI.  A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 194 

XVII.  THE  MISSING  WORD 213 

XVIII.  THE  ROSE  FADES 229 

XIX.  MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES    ......  236 

XX.  DARK  DAYS 249 

XXI.  A  VISIT  TO  LONDON 261 

XXII.  ELEANOR  INTERVENES 278 

XXIII.  HOME  AGAIN 287 

XXIV.  LAVENDER'S  BABIES 298 

XXV.  AN  ACCIDENT  AND  A  STORM 310 

XXVI.  EUREKA! 329 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 


XXVII.  AN  OLD  STORY  ........  348 

XXVIII.  AFTER  THE  WEDDING       ......  358 

XXIX.  PLAIN  SPEAKING        .......  369 

XXX.  AT  LAST  ,  379 


TREVOR  LORDSHIP 


TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

CHAPTER  I 

NIGHT  THOUGHTS 
"H  est  plus  aise  d'estre  sage  pour  les  autres,  que  de  1'estre  pour 

LA    EOCHEFOUCAULD. 

IT  was  a  beautiful  night  in  midsummer.  The 
scent  of  the  night-stock  stole  in  through  the  open 
window,  an  incense  to  the  worship  of  Nature  in  her 
most  soothing  mood.  Now  and  again,  some  slight 
sound  arose  which  seemed  to  emphasize  rather  than 
disturb  the  silence,  or  a  faint  breath,  too  slight  to  be 
termed  a  breeze,  would  shake  the  leaves  in  a  dim 
arpeggio  of  sound,  like  low  music  in  the  distance. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  stillness  itself  was  audible,  as 
if,  under  the  mantle  of  quiet  and  peace,  there  was  a 
faint  murmur,  more  a  sense  than  an  actuality,  as  of 
the  forces  of  Nature  at  work,  rearranging,  reproduc- 
ing, marshalling  her  forces  to  meet  the  morning ;  a 
sense  of  that  never  ending  re-creation,  of  which  we 
are  ever  sensible  at  the  dawn  of  a  new  day.  It  is 
only  when  we  are  very  young  that  we  imagine  that 


2  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

the  earth  sleeps  as  well  as  we ;  later  on,  we  realize 
that  the  night  is  for  Dame  Nature  her  hour  of  work, 
—  of  peace,  yes,  but  peace  which  gives  opportunity 
to  prepare  anew  her  daily  transformation  scene,  and 
to  stage  her  tableaux  afresh. 

A  few  clouds  were  drifting  over  the  face  of  the 
moon,  and  one  or  two  heavy  drops  fell,  as  if  the 
skies  wept  that  Earth's  time  of  quiet  was  so  short ; 
but  the  woman  who  was  seated  before  the  open  win- 
dow did  not  move.  She  was  leaning  forward,  her 
hands  lightly  clasped  on  a  small  table  in  front  of  her, 
her  eyes  gazing  into  the  night.  It  was  evident  that 
she  saw  nothing,  and  that  her  thoughts  were  far 
away. 

Under  her  hands  lay  a  mass  of  letters,  a  few  pieces 
of  faded  ribbon  with  which  they  had  been  tied,  and, 
like  a  blot  upon  the  white  table-cloth,  a  little  dry,  flat 
mass  of  brown,  which  exhaled  a  faint  scent  of  violets. 

Eleanor  Russell  was  a  tall  woman,  built  on  rather 
massive  lines.  She  was  dressed  in  deep  mourning, 
and  this,  even  in  the  dim  light  of  two  candles,  accen- 
tuated the  pallor  of  her  face,  and  seemed  to  take  all 
the  tone  out  of  her  hair,  leaving  it  ashen  and  colour- 
less. She  looked  worn  and  tired ;  but,  had  any  criti- 
cal observer  been  present,  they  would  have  been 
struck  by  the  steadfast  quiet  of  her  eyes,  which  were 
really  beautiful,  although  just  now  dimmed  with  ex- 
haustion resulting  from  a  long  strain.  Their  expres- 


NIGHT  THOUGHTS  3 

sion  suggested  a  calm  strength  at  variance  with  the 
fatigue  of  her  appearance,  an  almost  startling  dis- 
tinction between  the  mental  and  physical  conditions, 
denoting  either  a  spirit  so  controlled  as  to  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  bodily  influence,  or,  to  use  Dr.  Johnson's 
expression,  "  a  stark  insensibility." 

But  to  accuse  Eleanor  Russell  of  insensibility  in 
this  sense  would  be  far  from  just,  and  to  apply  the 
former  hypothesis,  a  little  more  than  her  due;  her 
state  of  mind  was  a  compound  of  both. 

Life  had  not,  so  far,  treated  her  with  much  kind- 
ness; her  circumstances  had  been  such  as  necessi- 
tated the  relegating  of  all  personal  matters  into  the 
background,  and  the  entire  subjection  of  all  personal 
emotion,  even  in  thought.  Her  youth  had  passed, 
almost  unheeded  in  its  going,  in  the  daily  round,  the 
common  task,  of  attendance  upon  a  dearly  loved  but 
fretful  invalid  mother,  who  must  be  sheltered  at  all 
costs ;  and  the  bearing  with,  and  making  the  best  of, 
the  galling,  and  sometimes  degrading,  actions  and  de- 
mands of  a  father  who  had  in  later  life  retained  all 
the  follies  natural  to,  and  not  always  becoming  in,  a 
young  man.  She  had,  from  being  a  kind  of  buffer 
or  buttress  to  those  with  whom  she  lived,  ceased  to 
consider  life  from  her  own  standpoint,  or  in  fact  to 
consider  herself,  or  her  own  wishes  at  all.  When  a 
certain  course  of  action  appeared  to  her  clear  judg- 
ment advisable  for  those  who  depended  on  her,  that 


4  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

course  was  pursued  as  a  natural  and  inevitable  thing, 
and  gradually  and  imperceptibly  she  had  ceased  to 
live  her  own  life,  it  had  become  merged  in  that  of 
others. 

Her  natural  unselfishness  had,  in  this  way,  in- 
creased, until  it  hovered  on  the  causeway  which 
divides  a  virtue  from  a  vice,  and  from  having  been 
obliged  for  so  long  to  disregard  her  own  wishes,  she 
had  almost  ceased  to  possess  any. 

Much  the  same  condition  may  be  observed  in  the 
vegetable  world :  when  a  young  tree  supports  a  growth 
of  ivy,  it  ceases  in  the  end  to  have  any  life  in  itself, 
and  becomes,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  an  ivy  tree. 

This,  however,  it  must  be  allowed,  was  only  in  its 
broader  sense,  and  in  the  larger  issues  of  life.  With 
regard  to  the  trifling  details  of  every  day,  she  was 
decided,  having  a  clear  view  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
a  clear  judgment  as  to  what  was  wise  or  unwise. 

But  at  the  moment  of  which  I  write,  Eleanor 
Russell  had  begun  to  realize,  albeit  vaguely  at  first, 
that  life  was  developing  the  personal  side,  which  had 
been  practically,  for  her,  non-existent  for  so  many 
years,  and  it  had  become  necessary  that  she  should 
think  for  herself. 

Presently  she  moved  a  little  and  began  turning 
over  the  papers  which  lay  before  her,  until  she  found 
the  one  she  sought.  It  was  a  letter,  old  and  faded, 
dated  fifteen  years  before. 


NIGHT   THOUGHTS  5 

MY  VERT  DEAR  :  Before  the  boat  goes,  I  must  just  write  a 
few  lines  to  you.  It  is  so  hard  to  part  from  you,  I  love  you  so. 
But  we  must  not  lose  hope,  Sweet  Nell,  it  cannot,  it  shall  not 
be  for  long.  When  I  have  made  enough  money  I  shall  come 
home  at  once,  and  we  will  be  married.  Meanwhile,  my  dear 
one,  in  spite  of  all,  we  will  love  each  other,  and  be  true  — 
always  true.  How  I  love  you  ! 

HAL. 

She  read  it  through,  very  much  in  the  way  one 
would  read  a  page  of  an  old  familiar  book,  the  words 
that  had  once  expressed  so  much  had  been  robbed  of 
their  meaning  by  the  years  that  had  passed  since  they 
were  penned.  Her  brief  sun-time,  and  the  briefer 
period  which  had  held  her  love,  had  been  left  so  very 
far  behind,  that  it  seemed  to  her  almost  impossible 
that  it  had  really  been  herself,  the  Eleanor  Russell  of 
to-day,  who  had  been  "  Sweet  Nell "  to  her  young 
lover. 

Surely  it  must  have  been  some  one  else,  some  friend 
perhaps  of  her  girlhood,  some  other  being  she  had 
known  intimately  in  days  very  long  ago.  A  tall  and 
lovely  girl  who  had  plighted  her  troth,  in  response  to 
the  protestations  of  eager  love,  which  seemed  now 
but  a  dim  recollection. 

Eleanor  raised  the  bunch  of  faded  violets  from  the 
table.  They  were  very  dry  and  dusty,  and  she  had 
on  more  than  one  occasion  considered  the  advisability 
of  throwing  them  away ;  but  she  had  refrained  from 
doing  so,  not  on  account  of  the  sentiment  they  now 


6  TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

held  for  her,  but  as  one  might  cherish  a  possession 
belonging  to  some  dead  relative,  whom  one  had  never 
known  personally,  but  of  whom  one  liked  to  be 
reminded.  She  tried  to  recall  the  occasion  on  which 
she  had  received  them,  but  her  memory  went  no  fur- 
ther than  that  they  were  connected  with  the  day  on 
which  he  went  away.  She  laid  them  down,  and 
picked  up  another  letter  at  random.  It  was  dated 
ten  years  later  than  the  first,  and  began,  "  My  dear 
Eleanor,"  and  was  signed  simply,  "  Yours,  H."  It 
was  such  a  letter  as  a  man  might  write  to  a  sister  or 
a  man  friend.  It  attributed  previous  months  of 
silence  to  the  fact  that  the  writer  had  been  up  country 
where  posts  were  uncertain.  He  was  glad  to  hear 
that  her  mother  was  pretty  well,  and  hoped  that  she 
was  the  same.  With  the  exception  of  these  two  sen- 
tences, the  letter  was  entirely  impersonal,  though  well 
written,  and  extremely  interesting.  Descriptions  of 
scenery,  native  habits,  flowers,  etc.,  followed  one  an- 
other in  easy,  well-chosen  language  ;  the  story  of  a 
local  tragedy  was  told  in  a  few  vigorous  lines  from 
the  pen  of  a  ready  writer.  The  whole  epistle  was,  in 
short,  quite  friendly,  and  quite  cool,  and  was  an  ex- 
cellent example  of  the  correspondence  which  had 
passed  between  them  during  the  last  seven  or  eight 
years  ;  letters  which  Eleanor  had  been  pleased  to  re- 
ceive, and  had  found  easy  to  answer. 

She  folded  it  again  after  reading  it  through,  and 


NIGHT  THOUGHTS  7 

proceeded  to  gather  the  scattered  papers  into  a 
bundle,  tying  them  together  with  the  faded  ribbon  — 
strangely  emblematic  of  the  tie  which  bound  her  and 
the  writer  together.  When  this  was  done,  it  left  only 
two  papers  on  the  table,  a  letter  and  a  telegram.  She 
picked  up  the  first,  and  read  it  carefully  through, 
while  a  little  pucker  showed  itself  just  between  her 
eyes.  It  was  dated  only  three  months  previously, 
and  read  as  follows  :  — 


MY  DEAR  ELEANOR  :  No  doubt  before  this  letter  reaches 
you,  you  will  have  seen  in  the  papers  the  announcement  of  the 
death  of  my  uncle,  Henry  Trevor,  and  will  have  realized  the 
difference  this  sad  event  makes  in  our  future  prospects.  His 
only  son  having  been  drowned  last  year,  I  am  his  heir.  His 
lawyers  inform  me  that,  though  not  a  rich  man,  he  was  pos- 
sessed of  a  very  comfortable  income,  and  this,  together  with 
his  property,  '  Trevor  Lordship,'  he  has  left  to  me,  uncondi- 
tionally. 

Although  we  did  not  expect  that  the  end  of  our  long  period 
of  waiting  would  come  in  this  way,  still  I  feel  that  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  it  has  come.  I  am  therefore  returning  to 
England  as  soon  as  possible.  I  would  ask  you  to  arrange  a 
very  early  date  for  our  marriage,  and  to  let  me  know  your 
decision  by  telegram. 

I  feel  sure  that,  owing  to  your  being  in  mourning  for  your 
dear  mother,  you  will  wish  it  to  be  as  quiet  as  possible; 
this  I  also  should  prefer.  Having  lived  so  long  alone,  any- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  function  would  be  most  disagreeable  to 
me.  I  propose  that  we  should  go  to  (  Trevor  Lordship '  directly 
after  the  wedding,  as  there  will  be,  of  course,  a  good  many 
arrangements  to  make.  I  trust  you  will  have  no  objection  to 
this,  but  should  you  prefer  any  other  course,  I  beg  you  will 


8  TREVOR   LORDSHIP 

have  no  hesitation  in  telling*  me.     I  shall  not  start  until  I  have 
heard  from  you,  and  shall  anxiously  await  your  telegram. 

Yours  ever, 

H.  TREVOR. 

It  will  readily  be  admitted  that  the  recipient  of 
this  letter  had  no  other  course  open  to  her  than  to 
think  of  herself.  There  was  no  doubt  it  was  a  very 
personal  matter  indeed. 

Eleanor  rose  from  her  chair,  and  walked  over  to 
the  mantelpiece,  and  took  in  her  hand  a  photograph 
which  stood  there.  With  this  she  returned  to  the 
table,  and  seated  herself  as  before.  Moving  the 
candles  to  obtain  a  better  light,  she  looked  at  it  long 
and  earnestly.  It  represented  a  young  man  with  a 
high  forehead  and  strong,  clear-cut  features;  so  far 
as  could  be  judged  from  the  portrait,  he  was  very  tall 
and  slim,  and  probably  athletic.  Altogether  he  was 
pleasant  to  look  at. 

She  laid  it  down  after  a  while,  and  took  up  the 
telegram.  The  systematic  way  she  had  read  through 
each  paper  was  characteristic  of  her;  it  seemed  as  if 
she  were  weighing  the  matter  in  a  balance,  and  was 
anxious  to  be  quite  fair. 

Your  father's  telegram  received.  Thank  you  for  arranging 
July  28th.  Shall  be  with  you  Wednesday  27th,  afternoon. 

TREVOR. 

Her  eyes  turned  almost  unconsciously  to  the  daily 
calendar  which  hung  beside  her  bed.  It  displayed 


NIGHT  THOUGHTS  9 

the  date  Tuesday,  July  26th,  and  underneath  the  text, 
"  Tribulation  worketh  patience,  and  patience  experi- 
ence, and  experience  hope."  Then  again  she  re- 
sumed her  former  position,  with  her  hands  clasped  in 
front  of  her,  and  her  eyes  gazing  out  into  the  night. 

When  Henry  Trevor's  last  letter  had  arrived,  she 
had,  in  pursuance  of  her  usual  custom,  handed  it  to 
her  father.  For  many  years  past,  her  parents  had 
always  read  her  letters;  they  afforded  an  agreeable 
change  as  a  topic  of  conversation,  and  any  secrecy  on 
her  part  would  have  seemed  obvious  and  unusual. 
She  had  been  utterly  unprepared  for  the  excitement 
into  which  it  had  thrown  him,  and  had  been  swept 
away  on  the  wave  of  it.  Feeling,  as  she  did,  worn 
out,  and  almost  exhausted  with  the  long  strain  of 
nursing  her  mother,  she  had  been  unable  to  argue 
with  him.  He  had  insisted  that  the  only  course  open 
to  her  was  to  fix  a  date  at  once ;  indeed,  he  had 
done  so  finally  himself.  She  had  said  in  protest  that 
she  hardly  liked  to  arrange  matters  so  quickly,  to 
which  he  had  replied  angrily  :  — 

"  You  are  surely  not  thinking  of  refusing  to  marry 
him?" 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  she  had  answered,  rather  shocked  at 
the  idea.  "  Only  I  should  have  liked  a  little  more 
time  to  think  it  over." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  her  father  had  replied ;  and  added, 
rather  coarsely  it  must  be  admitted,  "  You  have  had 


10  TREVOR   LORDSHIP 

fifteen  years  to  think  it  over  already  !  "  Which  was 
true. 

After  that  she  had  said  no  more,  and  Mr.  Russell 
had  made  all  arrangements  in  huge  delight.  He  had 
telegraphed  his  plans  to  Henry  Trevor,  and  was 
highly  satisfied  with  the  whole  affair.  The  truth 
was  that,  owing  to  his  wife's  illness  and  death,  he 
had  been  at  home  for  nearly  a  year,  and  a  prolonged 
period  of  domesticity  did  not  suit  him.  It  was,  as 
he  put  it,  "plaguey  dull."  But  if  Eleanor  had  a 
husband,  his  responsibilities  would  cease,  the  little 
house  could  be  shut  up,  and  he  would  be  free  to  ad- 
journ to  those  circles  where  a  certain  gaiety  is  not 
considered  a  demerit,  and  the  tune  of  life  is  set  in  a 
lighter  key.  To  be  honest,  village  life  bored  him 
almost  to  tears,  and  the  prospect  of  being  free  from 
all  family  ties  was  most  cheering. 

And  still  Eleanor  sat  on  immovable,  wrapped  in 
thought.  The  main  desire  of  which  she  was  con- 
scious, now  that  she  tried  to  think  what  she  really 
did  want — was  for  peace.  Peace  from  the  daily, 
hourly  fretting  worries  of  the  past  year.  Her  mother 
was  dead,  and  she  missed  her,  —  much  in  the  way, 
although  she  did  not  realize  it,  that  a  captive  might 
miss  the  chains  which  have  dragged  heavily  on  him 
for  a  long  time.  She  was  feeling  very  tired,  and 
quite  unable  to  cope  with  the  juvenility  and  exal- 
tation of  her  father's  humour.  She  longed  for  quiet, 


NIGHT   THOUGHTS  11 

for  a  period  of  leisure  in  which  she  might  readjust 
the  balance  of  her  life,  which  seemed  to  be  seriously 
disturbed.  But  she  knew  that  happy  time  could  not 
be  looked  for  yet,  and  she  passed  her  hand  over  her 
eyes,  and  buckled  on  her  armour  again  with  a  sigh. 

He  —  by  this  she  meant  her  lover  —  had  been  so 
constant  and  so  true,  her  whole  life  could  not  be  suf- 
ficient to  reward  him ;  she  would  do  her  best  to  make 
him  happy. 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and  began  to  prepare  for 
bed.  Her  eyes  fell  again  upon  the  calendar.  "  Tribu- 
lation worketh  patience."  "Yes,"  she  thought  whim- 
sically, "  she  had  learnt  that.  Patience  she  undoubt- 
edly possessed,  also,  perhaps,  the  next  clause  had  been 
passed  as  a  standard  in  the  curriculum ;  experience  of 
a  certain  kind  she  had  gained.  But, 6  Experience  work- 
eth hope,'  that  was  something  strange,"  she  thought. 
"  In  her  life  the  order  had  been  different.  Hope 
had  started  first,  to  be  overcome  by  the  tribulation, 
which  had  in  turn  worked  patience,  and  the  expe- 
rience of  later  life  did  not  at  present  leave  much 
ground  for  hope ! " 


CHAPTER  II 

ENTER  — THE  BRIDEGROOM 

"And  Time  that  gave,  doth  now  his  gift  confound." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

"  Where  are  the  songs  of  Spring  ?    Ay,  -where  are  they  ?  " 

— KEATS. 

THE  next  morning  Eleanor  was  picking  roses  in 
her  little  garden  when  she  heard  a  voice  behind  her, 
and  with  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  she  turned  to 
greet  a  visitor. 

A  little  lady  was  standing  at  the  gate,  —  a  curious 
figure,  and  one  that  might  easily  have  provoked  ridi- 
cule in  a  stranger.  She  was  very  short,  and  very 
round ;  she  wore  on  her  head  an  old-fashioned  mush- 
room hat,  tied  under  the  chin  with  wide  strings, 
making  a  frame  in  which  her  cheery  face  glowed 
like  a  rosy  apple.  Despite  her  figure,  or  rather  the 
absence  of  it,  her  movements  were  very  quick  and 
very  decided,  and  her  general  appearance  in  walking 
reminded  one  of  a  little  ball  lolling  along.  Her  apparel 
was  always  somewhat  eccentric:  a  full  skirt  short 
enough  to  display  her  thick,  serviceable  boots,  a  loose 
jacket  which  had  once  been  black,  but  which  time 
and  hard  wear  had  changed  to  a  dingy  green ;  and  a 

12 


ENTER  — THE  BRIDEGROOM  13 

pair  of  rough  gloves  of  the  kind  generally  associated 
with  "hedgers  and  ditchers."  This  was  her  every- 
day costume,  winter  and  summer,  but  on  Sundays 
it  was  modified ;  her  skirt  was  longer,  the  boots  thin- 
ner, the  gloves  neater,  but  the  style  was  always  the 
same.  It  was  a  standing  joke  with  the  young  people 
that  nobody  had  ever  seen  Miss  Price  without  her 
mushroom  hat.  She  ate  in  it,  lived  in  it,  and  it  was 
suspected  slept  in  it,  although  there  was  no  evidence 
to  prove  this !  She  never  dined  out,  early  hours 
were  the  fashion  in  the  village,  and  when  any  one 
called  on  her  she  was  invariably  in  her  garden,  and 
her  hat ! 

But  anything  ridiculous  suggested  by  her  appear- 
ance was  entirely  forgotten  after  a  few  moments' 
conversation,  for  her  personality  was  strong  and 
delightful ;  humorous,  yes !  causing  merriment  in- 
tentionally, distinctly  caustic  at  times,  but  ridicu- 
lous —  never. 

"Good-morning,  my  dear  Eleanor,"  she  said, 
briskly ;  "  good-morning !  Tut,  tut,  why  are  your 
Marie  van  Houttes  always  better  than  mine,  thereby 
causing  me  to  break  the  Tenth  Commandment,  and 
covet  my  neighbour's  goods  ?  Now  do  let  me  sit 
down.  I  don't  generally  walk  so  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  sun  is  powerful.  You  are  not  busy,  I 
hope?" 

"  No,"  said  Eleanor.     "  I  have  plenty  of  time,  and 


14  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  Come  and  sit  in  the 
shade  under  the  walnut-tree." 

They  walked  across  the  lawn,  and  seated  them- 
selves, and  at  once  Miss  Price  began. 

"  Well,  now !  tell  me  all  about  it.  Is  everything 
settled  for  to-morrow?  And  did  you  do  as  I  told 
you  about  your  dress  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Eleanor,  smiling.  "  I  am  going  to 
wear  white.  It  looks  quite  nice,  I  think;  just  a 
plain  coat  and  skirt,  with  a  lace  blouse  under  it.  I 
don't  think  you  will  find  fault  with  it." 

"  Pouf£ ! "  said  the  lady,  scornfully.  "  Henry 
Trevor  has  to  thank  me  that  his  wife  will  not  ap- 
pear in  church  to-morrow  in  a  black  cotton  frock ! 
And  what  about  the  other  things  ?  " 

"I  have  not  got  very  much,"  Eleanor  answered. 
"  There  has  not  been  much  time,  and  I  did  not  feel 
quite  sure  what  I  should  want ;  so  I  thought  I  would 
wait  and  buy  more  later.  Mother  left  me  plenty  of 
money  for  everything." 

"  You're  quite  right.  Besides,  things  made  in  the 
village  here  look  all  right  to  us,  but  when  we  have 
the  opportunity  of  comparing  them  elsewhere,  they 
may  be  far  from  right.  And  now,  my  dear  child,  I 
am,  as  you  know,  a  tiresome  old  woman ;  I  always 
have  been "  (which  was  quite  untrue) ;  "  and  I  am 
going  to  give  you  a  little  advice.  You  won't  like  it, 
but  you  will  have  to  put  up  with  it !  It  is  this  — 


ENTER  — THE   BRIDEGROOM  15 

For  goodness'  sake,  cease  to  be  a  doormat,  and  don't 
lie  down  for  people  to  wipe  their  boots  on  you ! 
Assert  yourself,  and  enjoy  yourself,  and  don't  con- 
sider other  people  so  much.  If  you  are  going  to 
slave  for  your  husband,  in  the  way  you  have  slaved 
for  your  parents,  Heaven  help  him !  Such  a  course 
of  treatment  would  ruin  the  Archangel  Gabriel  him- 
self! 

"And  another  thing.  You  have  lived  for  so  many 
years  in  this  little  place  —  I  am  not  saying  anything 
against  it  —  I  love  it,  and  so  do  you,  but  affection 
does  not  blind  me  to  the  fact  that  it  is  groovy.  We 
are  like  the  postman's  pony  doing  the  same  round 
every  day.  You  will  probably  feel  rather  like  a  fish 
out  of  water  for  a  time,  and  see  many  things  that 
surprise  you,  but  hold  your  own,  my  dear,  hold  your 
own.  Take  your  position,  whatever  it  may  be,  and 
consider  your  appearance  also,  and  your  clothes. 
Yes !  you  may  smile,  my  dear,  and  look  at  my  hat 
and  my  boots,  but  I'm  right.  I  don't  say  you  have 
not  always  looked  very  nice  ;  you  have ;  but  you  are 
going  where  things  may  be  different,  and  every  man 
likes  to  see  his  wife  looking  smart.  You  are  young, 
and  good  looking ;  make  the  most  of  yourself." 

"  Dear  Miss  Price,"  murmured  Eleanor,  "  I  am  too 
old  to  think  of  my  looks." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !  "  retorted  the  lady.  "  Not 
a  bit  of  it !  What  are  you  ?  Thirty-three  ?  Well, 


16  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

I  was  thirty-three,  five  and  twenty  years  ago,  and  I'm 
not  old  yet !  Now,  I  won't  bother  you  any  more, 
but  store  my  words  in  your  memory.  They  may  be 
useful  by  and  by.  Where  are  you  going  for  your 
honeymoon  ?  " 

"  We  are  not  going  to  have  a  honeymoon ;  we  are 
going  straight  to  '  Trevor  Lordship.'  Henry  wished 
it,  as  there  was  a  good  deal  to  see  to." 

Miss  Price  nodded,  and  then  she  looked  at  the 
younger  woman  with  shrewd,  kindly  eyes,  noting  the 
tired  face,  the  steady,  gentle  expression.  Certainly 
Eleanor  did  not  look  like  a  bride  eagerly  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  a  long-expected  and  desired  bridegroom. 
Was  everything  indeed  as  it  should  be  ?  she  wondered. 
Then  she  laid  her  hand  on  hers,  and  said  quietly :  — 

"  Eleanor,  why  don't  you  put  off  your  marriage  ? 
Are  you  quite  sure  you  care  for  him  ? " 

Eleanor  started  in  surprise. 

•  "  Why,  Miss  Price,"  she  said  f  alteringly,  "  of 
course  —  you  know  we  have  cared  —  we  have  been 
engaged  for  fifteen  years  !  " 

Before  her  companion  could  reply,  Mr.  Russell 
stepped  out  of  the  garden  door,  calling  for  his 
daughter. 

"  Eleanor !     Eleanor  !     Where  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  I  will  come 
back  in  a  moment." 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Price,  "  I  am  going  now.     I  shall 


ENTER  — THE  BRIDEGROOM  17 

see  you  in  church  to-morrow.  Good-bye,  my  dear. 
God  bless  you.  Don't  come  with  me ;  I'll  open  the 
gate." 

Eleanor  walked  towards  her  father. 

"  Here  I  am,"  she  said ;  "  do  you  want  anything  ?  " 

"  It  is  most  tiresome !  These  maids  of  yours 
are  such  fools.  I  bought  a  bottle  of  varnish,  sent 
to  London  for  it  on  purpose,  and  now  they  don't 
know  where  it  is,  and  my  boots  won't  be  ready  for 
to-morrow ! " 

"I  can  find  it,"  she  answered. 

"  But  I  tell  you  they  must  be  varnished  to-day,  or 
they  won't  be  dry,  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  if 
Susan  can  do  them  properly,  and  in  spite  of  all  I 
said,  that  laundress  will  not  glaze  my  collars." 

11 1  am  sorry  about  the  collars,"  said  Eleanor, 
smiling ;  "  but  do  not  worry  about  the  boots.  I  will 
do  them  myself,  and  I  assure  you  that  they  will  be 
quite  ready  for  to-morrow." 

"  What  about  that  Niphetos  rosebud  ?  I  hope  it 
will  not  be  too  far  out.  I  want  it  particularly  for 
my  buttonhole."  Mr.  Russell  might  have  been  the 
bridegroom  by  his  concern  respecting  the  details  of 
his  toilet !  "I  think  I'll  go  and  put  a  piece  of  paper 
round  it  to  prevent  it  opening  too  wide." 

Eleanor  fetched  his  boots,  and  carried  them  to  her 
storeroom  where  the  precious  bottle  of  varnish  was 
waiting  for  them.  The  little  house  was  beginning 
c. 


18  TEEVOR  LORDSHIP 

to  look  strange,  for  she  had  packed  away  all  her 
personal  possessions,  and  the  cases  were  standing  in 
the  corner  of  the  hall.  She  knew  very  well  that 
her  father's  one  idea  was  to  get  out  of  the  place 
as  quickly  as  possible ;  the  rest  of  the  furniture  was 
to  be  stored,  and  the  house  let. 

"  I  must  not  forget  to  arrange  for  those  cases 
going  to  '  Trevor  Lordship,' '  she  thought.  She 
looked  round  her  little  storeroom  with  regret.  It 
had  so  many  associations !  For  so  many  years  it 
had  been  an  intimate  part  of  her  daily  life;  the 
time  spent  in  it  represented  the  few  quiet  moments 
which  she  had  been  able  to  call  her  own.  She  knew 
every  jar !  —  the  place  for  everything  !  On  one  side 
the  lavender  and  herbs,  the  dried  rose  leaves ;  and 
on  the  other,  the  household  stores,  jams  and  pre- 
serves. The  shelves  were  nearly  empty  now;  she 
had  given  everything  away  to  a  few  friends  and  the 
villagers,  and  she  felt  as  if  a  tie  had  snapped  under 
her  hand. 

She  felt  a  little  nervous  at  the  idea  of  the  long 
journey  the  next  day ;  her  head  was  aching,  and 
she  was  a  very  inexperienced  traveller.  She  hoped 
Henry  would  not  think  her  very  dull  and  stupid ;  it 
was  certainly  unfortunate  that  he  should  be  return- 
ing just  when  she  was  not  quite  her  usual  self. 

She  completed  her  task  with  the  thoroughness 
habitual  to  her,  neatly  and  expeditiously.  One  great 


ENTER  — THE   BRIDEGROOM  19 

beauty  about  Eleanor  was  her  hands ;  they  were  not 
small,  but  they  were  beautifully  shaped,  white  and 
soft,  and  had  in  everything  a  touch  firm  and  capable. 
The  kind  of  hands  that  invest  even  the  doing  up  of 
a  parcel  with  a  certain  nobility. 

Then  she  started  upstairs  to  complete  her  packing, 
but  heard  her  father  calling  "  Eleanor !  Eleanor !  " 
in  his  usual  testy  tone. 

"  I  am  coming,"  she  called  back. 

He  always  wanted  something ;  if  it  was  not  boots 
or  collars,  it  was  something  of  similar  importance. 
Just  now  it  was  a  spot  on  his  overcoat ! 

And  so  the  day  passed,  as  other  days  had  passed 
before,  alternately  in  running  errands  and  doing  little 
jobs  for  her  father,  and  trying  to  finish  the  necessary 
arrangements  before  leaving  her  little  home. 

At  about  four  o'clock  that  afternoon,  the  question 
of  the  rosebud  became  of  importance  again.  There 
was  no  doubt  it  would  be  full  blown  on  the  morrow. 
What  was  to  be  done  ? 

"  Let  us  go  and  find  another,"  suggested  Eleanor. 
"  I  think  we  can  find  one  just  as  good  in  the  kitchen 
garden." 

"  It  must  be  white,"  persisted  Mr.  Russell.  "  I  am 
going  to  wear  a  white  tie." 

They  were  deciding  the  knotty  point,  when  the 
maid  arrived,  and  said  that  Sir  Henry  Trevor  was 
in  the  drawing-room. 


20  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Mr.  Russell  became  at  once  greatly  excited. 

"  Come  at  once,  Eleanor,"  he  said.  "  "We  must  on 
no  account  keep  him  waiting,"  and  he  bustled  into 
the  house. 

"  Ah !  my  dear  Henry,"  he  said  blandly,  "  wel- 
come back  to  the  old  country,  after  your  long  exile. 
We  are  very  pleased  to  see  you." 

Trevor  shook  hands  with  him,  then  turned  to 
Eleanor,  who  held  out  her  hand. 

There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  pause,  then  he 
stooped,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips  with  an  old-fashioned 
courtesy.  Anything  more  sentimental  was  impossible 
in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Russell,  who  stood  like  a 
benign  master  of  the  ceremonies,  in  a  sort  of  "  Bless 
you,  my  children  "  attitude,  which  was  as  obvious  as 
it  was  irritating. 

"Do  sit  down,"  he  said,  when  this  little  ceremony 
was  over;  and  somewhat  constrainedly  the  two  sat 
down,  at  either  end  of  the  big  Chesterfield  sofa. 

"  I  trust  you  will  be  pleased  with  the  arrangements 
I  have  made,"  he  continued  pompously.  "  You  will 
of  course  understand  that,  owing  to  our  recent  be- 
reavement,"—  he  glanced  downwards  with  an  air  of 
stage  affliction  as  he  spoke,  — "  the  wedding  will  be 
very  quiet  and  simple.  It  will  take  place  at  twelve 
o'clock.  That  will  allow  time  for  a  little  light  lunch- 
eon here  before  you  catch  the  two  o'clock  express." 

While  her  father  continued  these  details,  which  he 


ENTER  — THE   BRIDEGROOM  21 

felt  displayed  his  organizing  genius,  Eleanor  looked 
at  the  man  who  had  thus  come  into  her  life  again. 

Henry  Trevor  was  at  this  time  forty,  but  he 
looked  at  least  ten  years  older.  He  was  very  tall, 
thin  almost  to  emaciation,  and  stooped  very  much. 
Eleanor  had  known  that  he  had  had  some  trouble 
with  his  eyes  a  year  or  two  before,  but  she  had  not 
been  prepared  to  see  him  wearing  smoked  spectacles. 
It  disconcerted  her,  for  it  effectually  disguised  any 
trace  that  might  have  remained,  in  this  middle-aged 
man,  of  the  lover  of  long  ago. 

He  wore  a  heavy  moustache,  which,  like  his  hair, 
was  turning  a  little  grey.  What  with  his  moustache 
hiding  his  mouth,  and  his  spectacles  hiding  his  eyes, 
there  seemed  nothing  left  of  him.  to  recognize,  except 
his  voice,  which  was  quiet,  and  very  pleasant,  and 
sounded  a  note  of  memory. 

She  felt  vaguely  glad  he  did  not  look  younger ;  she 
was  conscious  of  feeling  old  herself,  and  had  feared 
the  age  might  be  all  on  her  side. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  that  my  mother  will  not  be 
well  enough  to  come  to-morrow,"  he  was  saying. 
"  It  was  her  intention  to  have  been  present,  and  my 
sister  also,  but  she  is  unequal  to  any  exertion  in  this 
heat,  and  hopes  you  will  pardon  her.  My  sister  is 
only  staying  with  her  for  a  time,  while  her  husband 
is  abroad,  and  hardly  likes  to  leave  her." 

Eleanor  made  some  polite  reply.     She  had  never 


22  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

for  one  moment  imagined  that  Mrs.  Trevor  would 
come.  She  had  persistently  ignored  the  engagement 
for  fifteen  years,  and  Eleanor  had  never  seen  her. 
Henry  Trevor  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  say  that 
there  had  been  a  discussion  between  them  that  morn- 
ing, a  little  heated  on  his  mother's  side,  in  which  she 
had  bitterly  upbraided  him  for  his  folly  in  marrying 
a  person  without  any  money,  and  whom  nobody 
knew.  He  had  been  somewhat  annoyed  at  his  future 
wife  being  termed  "a  person."  He  felt  it  was  hardly 
suitable,  but  he  particularly  disliked  a  scene  of  any 
kind,  so  he  had  merely  remarked  calmly  that  it  was 
his  intention  to  be  married  to  Miss  Eussell  on  the 
following  day,  and  that  he  should  take  his  wife 
straight  to  ' Trevor  Lordship'  after  the  wedding. 


CHAPTER   III 

A  TURN  IN  THE  ROAD 

"...    no  time,  however  distant,  but  what  you  may  reach  and  pass 

it, 

.     .     .     no  road,  but  it  stretches  and  waits  for  you, 
However  long  but  it  stretches  and  waits  for  you." 

— WALT  WHITMAN. 

MB.  RUSSELL  was,  it  would  appear,  the  person  to  be 
considered  above  all  others,  the  next  morning.  His 
boots  were  spotlessly  shiny,  which  was  a  great  con- 
solation to  him,  and  the  white  rosebud  which  adorned 
his  buttonhole  was,  in  every  respect,  entirely  satis- 
factory. 

He  surveyed  himself  in  the  glass  with  some  pride 
when  his  toilet  was  completed,  and  with  great  regret 
reflected  that  there  would  be  no  one  worth  mention- 
ing to  see  the  gorgeous  effect  of  his  tout  ensemble. 
However,  it  would  not  be  many  days  before  he  found 
himself  in  a  more  congenial  neighbourhood,  where 
admiring  eyes  would  surely  linger  on  his  dashing 
appearance.  He  purposed  what  he  called  "a  little 
run  upon  the  Continent,"  Dieppe  to  start  with,  and 
later,  perhaps,  Homburg.  In  these  places  he  had  no 
doubt  he  would  be  appreciated  at  his  proper  value. 

Meanwhile,  Eleanor  and  the  two  maids  had  been 

23 


24  TREVOR   LORDSHIP 

running  here  and  there  from  an  early  hour,  assisting 
to  achieve  the  splendid  result. 

"  Lor !  "  said  Susan  confidentially  to  Jane,  "  the 
master  he  do  look  a  dog ! " 

To  which  Jane,  who  was  elderly,  and  a  trifle  sour, 
replied :  — 

"  Well,  if  he  looks  a  dog,  it's  Miss  Eleanor  who's 
been  a-workin'  like  one  !  "  Which 'comment  summed 
up  the  truth  admirably. 

Eleanor  had  gone  late  to  bed  the  night  before,  and 
had  risen  early;  she  had  run  hither  and  thither  in 
response  to  his  repeated  demands,  until  at  eleven 
o'clock  he  sent  her  upstairs,  with  strict  injunctions 
not  to  keep  him  waiting.  They  would  leave  the 
house  at  five  minutes  before  twelve,  and  walk  to 
the  church. 

In  the  welcome  solitude  of  her  own  room,  she  sat 
down  for  a  while  to  rest.  She  had  been  much  struck 
on  the  previous  afternoon  with  the  quietness  of 
Henry  Trevor's  demeanour,  and  it  had  pleased  her. 
There  would,  undoubtedly,  be  peace  in  their  life,  and 
this  was  the  one  thing  she  really  desired.  After 
to-day,  when  that  long  journey  was  over,  a  period  of 
quiet  would  begin. 

He  had  spoken  very  kindly  of  their  future  life 
together,  had  trusted  that  she  would  be  happy  ;  and 
she  had  replied  that  she  hoped  he  would  be  the  same, 
all  in  a  natural,  quiet  way  which  comforted  her  a 


A  TURN  IN   THE  EOAD  25 

good  deal.  She  hardly  knew  what  she  would  have 
done,  had  Henry  been  bustling  like  her  father. 

Presently  she  rose  and  began  to  dress.  She  put  on 
her  wedding  gown,  and  a  large  hat  with  white  plumes, 
which  became  her  exceedingly  well.  She  tidied  her 
room,  and  closed  her  last  trunk ;  then,  finding  she 
had  a  few  minutes  to  spare,  stood  before  the  dressing- 
table,  drawing  on  her  gloves.  As  she  did  so,  she 
noticed  her  engagement  ring.  It  was  a  thick  band 
of  gold  with  one  sapphire  in  it,  and  it  had  never  been 
off  her  finger  since  Henry  Trevor  had  put  it  there 
years  before.  She  realized  that  it  would  be  replaced 
by  another  in  a  few  moments,  and  with  a  little  blush 
she  took  it  off  and  put  it  on  her  right  hand.  Then 
some  of  her  conversation  with  Miss  Price  returned  to 
her  mind,  and  she  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass  with 
careful  scrutiny.  She  certainly  looked  old  and  tired, 
and  her  hair  was  drawn  back  too  tightly.  She  tried 
to  better  it,  feeling  rather  ashamed  of  herself,  it  was 
so  long  since  she  had  considered  her  looks,  but  she 
was  disturbed  by  her  father's  voice,  in  the  well-known 
cry,  "  Eleanor !  Eleanor  !  "  and,  hastily  buttoning  her 
glove,  she  went  downstairs. 

In  the  hall  Susan  and  Jane  were  waiting,  and, 
with  many  giggles  on  the  part  of  the  former,  they 
presented  her  with  a  bunch  of  white  flowers.  It  was 
rather  stiff,  and  the  paper  frill  round  it  was  sug- 
gestive of  a  ham,  but  Eleanor  was  touched  by  the 


26  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

little  attention,  and  assured  them  she  would  carry  it 
to  church. 

After  repeated  instructions  from  Mr.  Russell  to  the 
servants  that  lunch  was  to  be  punctually  at  half-past 
twelve,  and  that  the  champagne  was  on  no  account 
to  be  opened  before  they  came  back,  father  and 
daughter  walked  down  the  little  garden  path,  across 
to  the  quiet  church. 

A  few  villagers  were  waiting,  and  one  or  two  old 
friends,  including  Miss  Price,  were  seated  in  the  pews. 
The  hour  of  the  ceremony  had  become  known,  in  spite 
of  Mr.  Russell's  endeavours  to  the  contrary,  and  they 
were  come  to  see  her  married,  for  she  was  a  great 
favourite  with  all. 

Henry  Trevor  was  standing  waiting  on  the  chancel 
step.  In  the  subdued  light,  he  looked  younger  than 
on  the  previous  day.  He  was  perfectly  calm,  and  in 
his  blue  serge  suit,  with  a  grey  tie,  and  not  even  a 
flower  in  his  buttonhole,  did  not  appear  in  the  least 
like  a  bridegroom.  He  was  congratulating  himself 
on  the  general  absence  of  bustle  :  the  calm  demeanour 
of  Eleanor,  the  quiet  arrangements,  and  the  simple 
service  in  the  little  country  church,  were  entirely  to 
his  mind.  Accustomed  to  solitude  as  he  had  been  for 
so  many  years,  he  had  dreaded  to  find  himself  the 
centre  of  a  gaping  crowd  of  guests,  which  he  would 
have  detested  cordially. 

But  though  Eleanor  was  outwardly  calm,  her  looks 


A  TUEN  IN  THE  EOAD  27 

belied  her,  for  she  went  through  the  service  with  a 
feeling  of  unreality  which  disturbed  her.  It  seemed 
incredible  that  the  long  expected  was  really  an  ac- 
complished fact.  That  she  should  one  day  marry 
Henry  Trevor  she  had  long  known,  but  that  the 
moment  had  actually  arrived  seemed  impossible.  It 
was  almost  as  if  this  was  the  climax  to  the  love  story 
of  that  girl  of  the  long  ago,  the  "  Sweet  Nell "  of  the 
first  letter.  It  was  so  difficult  to  believe  that  the 
Eleanor  Russell  of  the  last  years  was  the  same 
woman.  It  was  almost  as  if  she  were  possessed  of 
a  dual  personality,  as  if  presently  "  Sweet  Nell " 
would  go  away  with  her  bridegroom,  and  Eleanor 
Russell  would  return  to  the  little  house  across  the 
road.  As  Henry  Trevor  placed  the  ring  upon  her 
finger,  the  whole  scene  seemed  to  swim  in  a  mist  be- 
fore her  eyes,  and  she  heard  a  voice  she  did  not  rec- 
ognize as  her  own  saying  the  responses.  She  thought 
vaguely  that  it  must  be  "  Sweet  Nell "  speaking. 
She  took  her  husband's  arm  mechanically  when  he 
offered  it,  and  the  little  party  moved  into  the  vestry. 

Mr.  Russell  now  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  re- 
mained in  the  background  quite  long  enough,  for  he 
came  forward  quickly,  and,  embracing  his  daughter 
in  his  best  "  heavy  father  "  manner,  pompously  con- 
gratulated them  both. 

Miss  Price  shook  hands  with  Sir  Henry,  and  gave 
her  good  wishes  heartily. 


28  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  But  you  have  taken  the  joy  out  of  my  life,  and 
into  your  own,"  she  said,  in  her  quick,  decided  way. 

Sir  Henry  bowed ;  his  tongue  was  out  of  practice 
for  repartee,  it  would  seem,  for  he  made  no  other 
reply. 

During  the  short  walk  to  the  house,  and  the  lunch- 
eon which  followed,  Eleanor  was  still  conscious  of  the 
unreality  of  the  part  she  was  playing,  but  she  was 
grateful  to  Sir  Henry  for  engaging  her  father  in  con- 
versation, and  for  the  matter  of  fact  way  in  which  he 
cut  Mr.  Russell  short  in  his  verbose  farewells,  and  led 
her  to  the  carriage.  She  waved  a  good-bye  to  the 
maids,  and  a  few  people  who  lingered  at  the  gate, 
and,  side  by  side  with  the  man  who  was  her  husband, 
started  on  the  journey  they  were  to  take  together. 

"  I  fear  you  are  very  tired,"  Sir  Henry  said.  "  It 
is  very  hot  to-day." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  but  the  air  is  delicious  driv- 
ing, and  very  refreshing." 

"  It  is  a  long  journey,"  he  continued ;  "  we  shall 
not  arrive  until  about  nine  o'clock;  but  I  understand 
we  can  dine  in  the  train." 

"  Can  you  remember  '  Trevor  Lordship  '  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  What  is  the  house  like  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  can  recall  it,  it  is  an  old  Elizabethan 
house,  approached  by  an  avenue  of  lime-trees.  I  un- 
derstand it  contains  some  fine  old  furniture  and  china, 
and,  what  interests  me  more,  a  very  good  library.  The 


29 

lawyers  gave  me  the  catalogue  yesterday  as  I  passed 
through  London,  and  there  are  apparently  many 
books  which  I  have  longed  all  my  life  to  possess." 

"  You  have  not  been  able  to  obtain  many  of  late 
years  ?  "  Eleanor  enquired. 

"  More  than  you  would  think,"  Sir  Henry  replied 
quickly.  "  My  nearest  neighbour  was  an  old  German 
savant,  who  was  ending  his  days  in  his  daughter's 
home.  Her  husband  was  farming,  like  the  rest  of  us. 
Professor  Kohler  his  name  was,  and  he  had  very  con- 
stant consignments  of  the  newest  books  out  from 
Europe,  and  I  had  the  run  of  them.  I  was  referring 
more  to  older  books,  and  older  editions,  which  I  have 
always  wished  to  see.  You  are  fond  of  books  ?  "  he 
added  questioningly. 

"  Very,"  she  answered ;  "  but  I  have  had  very  little 
time  for  reading  in  the  past.  I  have  always  been 
rather  busy." 

"Ah!"  he  said,  "that  has  been  the  same  in  my 
case,  but  I  hope  that  in  the  future  we  shall  be  able 
to  make  up  for  the  past." 

On  arrival  at  the  station,  he  asked  her  what  papers 
she  would  like  for  the  journey,  and  she  mentioned 
one,  more  from  a  dislike  to  refusing  than  from  any 
desire  to  read.  He  provided  himself  with  a  pile  of 
literature,  and  helped  her  into  the  train,  solicitous 
of  her  comfort  in  a  way  to  which  she  was  quite 
unaccustomed,  and  found  very  pleasant.  Having 


30  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

ascertained  that  she  wanted  nothing  more,  he  estab- 
lished himself  in  the  corner  opposite  her. 

"  Will  you  excuse  my  reading  ?"  he  asked,  with  a 
smile.  "  Talking  in  the  train  is  not  very  pleasant,  is 
it  ?  And  it  is  so  very  delightful  to  me  to  read  the 
news  of  the  day  before  it  is  two  months  old." 

"  I  would  much  rather  not  talk,"  she  said;  "  and  it 
is  very  nice  to  do  nothing." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  corner,  and  closed  her  eyes; 
the  rest  was  very  grateful.  Certainly  if  life  with 
Henry  was  going  to  continue  on  these  lines,  she 
might  hope  for  the  peace  for  which  she  had  longed, 
and  meanwhile,  to  do  nothing  was  most  enjoyable. 

When  dinner  time  came  they  moved  into  the  res- 
taurant car,  and  during  the  meal  Sir  Henry  chatted 
easily. 

"  There  are  one  or  two  matters  I  should  like  to  talk 
over  with  you.  I  have  no  experience  in  the  manage- 
ment of  a  house,  and  I  told  the  lawyers  to  ask  my 
uncle's  servants  to  stay  on  until  something  was  defi- 
nitely arranged.  In  this  regard,  however,  I  am  quite 
at  sea,  and  I  fear  I  must  ask  you  to  undertake  it,  if 
you  will." 

"  Certainly,"  Eleanor  said  at  once.  "  I  have  been 
used  to  running  a  house,  and  can  manage  all  that 
perfectly,  if  you  will  tell  me  just  what  you  like 
done." 

Her  husband  was  obviously  relieved. 


A  TURN  IN   THE  EOAD  31 

"  I  am  very  grateful,"  he  said.  "  That  will  be  ex- 
cellent. You  must  make  what  arrangements  you  like ; 
I  will  leave  everything  in  your  hands.  In  the  farm, 
of  course,  I  am  more  or  less  at  home,  but  the  garden 
will  be  a  strange  country  to  me." 

"I  have  always  loved  my  garden,"  Eleanor  said, 
smiling.  "Would  you  like  me  to  manage  that  too?" 

"Indeed  I  should,"  he  answered  promptly.  "If 
it  will  not  be  troubling  you  too  much." 

"Not  in  the  least;  I  shall  thoroughly  enjoy  it." 

"  There  is  another  point,"  Sir  Henry  said,  rather 
hesitatingly.  "I  dislike  mentioning  it,  but  it  is  a 
necessity.  With  regard  to  the  disagreeable  subject 
of  money,  I  have  arranged  for  you  to  have  a  sig- 
nature on  my  banking  account,  and  I  beg  you  will 
draw  exactly  what  you  require.  It  will  not  be  neces- 
sary for  you  to  stint  yourself  in  any  way.  My  in- 
come will  be  a  very  comfortable  one,  and  I  am  sure 
you  will  be  quite  wise,  and  that  I  can  safely  leave 
this  matter  in  your  hands.  I  will,  if  you  wish  it,  go 
more  particularly  into  figures,  later  on." 

"  I  think  that  would  be  a  good  thing,"  she  said. 
"  I  might  spend  too  much.  But  I  am  anxious  to  save 
you  trouble,"  she  added,  "and  I  am  quite  accustomed 
to  managing." 

"Ah!"  he  answered,  "I  fear  you  will  find  that  I 
much  appreciate  being  saved  trouble !  I  trust  you 
will  not  hesitate  to  let  me  know  at  once,  though,  if 


32  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

there  is  any  arrangement  you  dislike,  or  which  you 
would  prefer  altered." 

Eleanor  smiled. 

"  I  am  very  easily  satisfied,"  she  said. 

Her  spirits  were  rising.  If  she  had  not  felt  so  tired, 
she  would  have  quite  enjoyed  the  journey.  Henry 
certainly  was  delightfully  easy  to  get  on  with,  and 
again  she  hoped  she  might  be  able  to  make  him 
happy — this  time  with  more  assurance. 

On  arriving  at  the  nearest  station  to  '  Trevor  Lord- 
ship,' they  found  a  carriage  waiting  for  them.  It 
was  quite  dark,  and  they  could  see  nothing  of  the 
country  through  which  they  drove,  but  after  about 
half  an  hour  they  reached  the  house.  An  elderly 
butler  met  them,  and  showed  them  into  a  large  room 
surrounded  with  book-cases. 

"  This  is  the  library,  Sir  Henry.  Will  her  ladyship 
take  a  little  soup  or  wine  ?  Or  would  she  wish  Mrs. 
Johns  to  show  her  upstairs  ?  " 

Eleanor  had  not  in  the  least  realized  her  new  title, 
and  started  a  little  as  the  man  spoke.  Then  she  an- 
swered. No,  she  required  nothing.  They  had  dined 
in  the  train.  She  would  like  to  sit  still  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  she  would  ring  for  the  housekeeper 
to  take  her  upstairs. 

She  sat  down  in  a  low,  old-fashioned  armchair, 
glad  to  be  free  from  the  shaking  of  the  train  and 
carriage.  Her  husband  was  walking  round  looking 


A  TUKN  IK  THE  KOAD  33 

at  the  books,  uttering  every  now  and  then  a  comment 
or  an  exclamation.  He  was  evidently  deeply  inter- 
ested. Presently  she  rose,  and  he  walked  back  to 
where  she  was  standing.  Then  he  said  slowly  and 
rather  shyly,  — 

"  I  hope  —  that  you  will  be  very  happy  here  —  I 
should  like  to  welcome  you  —  Eleanor  —  " 

He  stooped  in  the  act  to  kiss  her,  but  to  his  aston- 
ishment she  swayed  for  a  moment,  and  then  fell  back 
into  the  chair  she  had  just  quitted,  and  he  saw  to  his 
consternation  that  she  had  fainted. 

When  Eleanor  came  to  her  senses,  she  found  an 
elderly  woman,  presumably  Mrs.  Johns,  bending  over 
her,  and  Sir  Henry  standing  by,  looking  very  much 
concerned.  She  pulled  herself  together,  and  struggled 
to  her  feet. 

"  I  am  so  very  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  cannot  think 
why  I  did  it.  I  have  never  fainted  in  my  life  before. 
I  suppose  I  am  over-tired.  I  am  so  ashamed  of  giv- 
ing so  much  trouble." 

"  Come  upstairs  with  me,  my  lady,"  said  the  house- 
keeper. "  You'd  best  get  to  bed." 

Eleanor  felt  rather  dazed ;  she  held  out  her  hand  to 
her  husband. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Sir  Henry  seemed  a 
little  surprised. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said.    "  I  hope  you  will  be  much 


34  TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

better  in  the  morning.  I  have  no  doubt  you  require 
a  good  rest." 

"Please  do  not  think  any  more  about  me,"  she 
answered.  "  I  shall  be  quite  well  to-morrow." 

Sir  Henry  closed  the  door  after  her.  "  I  do  trust 
she  is  not  delicate,"  he  thought  to  himself,  and  with 
that  he  returned  to  the  engrossing  survey  of  his  new 
library. 


CHAPTER  IV 

'TREVOR  LORDSHIP' 

"To  deny  that  man  is,  in  a  sense,  the  creature  of  circumstances,  is 
equal  to  the  denial  that  two  and  two  make  four ;  and  to  deny  that  man 
cannot  make  circumstances,  is  equal  to  affirming  that  two  and  two  make 
five."  — J.  JOHNSON. 

IT  would  have  been  almost  impossible  to  have 
found  a  man  less  suited  to  the  life  of  the  backwoods 
than  Henry  Trevor,  and  this  fact  must  be  borne  in 
mind  by  any  who  may  wonder  at  the  effect  which 
fifteen  years  of  comparative  solitude  had  had  upon 
his  character  and  mind. 

He  had  been  a  youth  of  barely  twenty-five  when 
his  father  died,  and  the  thread  of  his  life,  which  had 
hitherto  run  smoothly,  took  a  sudden  twist.  They 
had  been  devoted  friends,  and  as  long  as  Mr.  Trevor 
lived,  Henry  had  never  lacked  any  sympathy  or  in- 
terest in  his  pursuits  or  occupations.  He  had  done 
extremely  well  at  Cambridge,  and  had  a  great  am- 
bition to  take  to  journalism  and  literature  as  a  pro- 
fession, to  which  he  had  without  difficulty  obtained 
his  father's  consent. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  first  met  Eleanor 
Russell.  He  was  staying  with  friends  in  the  village 
where  she  lived,  and  their  acquaintance  soon  ripened 

35 


36  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

into  that  dangerous,  but  almost  inevitable  disease, 
first  love. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  news  of  their  en- 
gagement was  badly  received  by  the  relatives  on 
both  sides,  but  finally  Mr.  Trevor  sanctioned  it. 
He  was  perhaps  the  person  who  understood  his 
son's  temperament  best  of  all,  and  he  realized  that 
he  was  just  at  an  age  where  such  a  tie  might  be 
a  stimulus  to  work,  and  a  weight  to  balance  his 
somewhat  high-flown  opinions  and  impulsive  actions. 

Henry  was  ardent  and  hopeful.  So  soon  as  his 
position  on  the  staff  of  a  young  and,  it  must  be 
confessed,  very  Radical  paper,  was  more  assured, 
they  were  to  be  married,  and  for  a  short  time 
all  seemed  couleur  de  rose.  Then  Mr.  Trevor  died 
quite  suddenly,  leaving  only  an  old  will  made 
many  years  before,  in  which  he  bequeathed  every- 
thing he  possessed  to  his  wife. 

Mrs.  Trevor  was  a  woman  of  very  decided  opin- 
ions, and  did  not  in  the  least  sympathize  with  her 
son  in  his  ambition  for  literary  glory.  She  consid- 
ered it  rubbish,  and  waste  of  time.  She  was  also 
quite  certain  that  the  income  she  received  after  her 
husband's  death  was  only  sufficient  to  support  her- 
self and  a  daughter,  then  nearly  seventeen  years 
old,  in  a  suitable  manner.  Therefore  the  only  thing 
was  for  Henry  to  get  to  work  as  quickly  as  possible ; 
this  scribbling,  and  philandering  with  a  penniless 


'TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP'  37 

miss,  must  cease;  and  being,  as  we  have  said,  a 
woman  of  strong  character,  and  being,  moreover, 
in  a  position  to  command,  as  she  held  the  purse- 
strings,  she  packed  him  off  to  Australia  before  his 
father  had  lain  in  his  grave  three  months. 

Being  genuinely  in  love,  and  having  a  good  meas- 
ure of  self-confidence,  Henry  Trevor  started,  per- 
fectly satisfied  that  his  exile  would  only  be  of  short 
duration.  That  this  idea  was  erroneous  we  are 
already  aware. 

There  was  no  question  that  he  worked  hard,  and 
did  his  very  best  with  brain  and  hands,  but  a  race- 
horse harnessed  to  a  Pantechnicon  van  would  be 
about  as  much  in  its  proper  place  as  was  Henry 
Trevor.  It  is  conceivable  that  the  van  might  move, 
but  that  its  advance  would  either  be  certain  or  rapid 
is  unlikely. 

To  begin  with,  the  life  in  some  ways  called  out  the 
best  of  one  side  of  his  character,  and  with  a  deter- 
mination not  to  be  beaten,  he  set  about  his  work 
with  a  dogged  obstinacy  which  would  have  done  him 
no  harm  had  the  experience  been  only  temporary. 
But  as  year  succeeded  year,  and  found  him  no  nearer 
to  the  goal  of  his  hopes,  his  heart  ceased  to  be  in  his 
work  at  all.  His  highly  strung  and  sensitive  nature 
became  dull  and  warped,  and  it  may  be  counted  as 
something  to  his  credit  that  he  did  not  follow  in  the 
steps  of  many  round  him,  and  drift  rapidly  to  the  dogs. 


38  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

From  this  he  was  saved  by  succeeding  influences. 
First,  the  memory  of  Eleanor  prevented  him  joining 
in  the  doubtful  forms  of  pleasure  which  were  practi- 
cally the  only  amusements  to  be  had,  and  secondly, 
when  the  strength  of  that  memory  was  perhaps 
weakened  a  little,  he  chanced  to  meet  the  man  he  had 
mentioned  in  his  conversation  with  Eleanor,  already 
recorded. 

Johann  Kohler  was  a  man  such  as  is  not  infre- 
quently met  with  in  the  Colonies.  For  some  reason, 
probably  not  in  any  way  connected  with  his  own 
wishes,  he  was  obliged  to  put  the  seas  between  him- 
self and  his  Fatherland.  Henry  always  surmised 
that  it  was  something  in  the  nature  of  a  political 
offence,  although  he  had  no  grounds  for  his  belief, 
beyond  his  knowledge  of  the  man's  character. 

Kohler  was  reticent  as  to  his  past  or  present  cir- 
cumstances, but  he  appeared  to  be  possessed  of  an 
assured  income,  as  the  fluctuations  of  the  barometer, 
that  never-ending  anxiety  to  the  Australian  squatter, 
concerned  him  apparently  not  at  all.  In  the  price  of 
wool  he  was  openly  uninterested,  but  the  arrival  of 
his  quarterly  case  of  books  from  Berlin  excited  him 
almost  into  a  fever.  He  was  a  good  linguist,  and  the 
contents  of  the  box  were  representative  publications 
of  the  literature  of  England  and  France,  as  well  as 
Germany,  and  covered  a  very  wide  range  of  subjects. 

He  became  sincerely  attached  to  Henry  Trevor, 


'TREVOR  LORDSHIP'  39 

and,  shrewdly  diagnosing  his  condition  to  be  one  of 
positive  mental  starvation,  did  his  best  to  counteract 
it. 

This,  then,  was  the  man  who,  for  nearly  ten 
years,  was  the  only  congenial  companion  Trevor  had 
known.  It  can  hardly  be  wondered  at,  then,  if  his 
horizon  became  also  bounded  by  the  case  from  Berlin, 
and  that  every  spare  moment  of  the  day  or  night  was 
spent  at  Kohler's  house.  When  we  consider  for  one 
moment  the  fact  that  many  of  us  who  live  in  country 
villages,  and  even  towns,  have  been  accused  of  being 
"  groovy,"  in  spite  of  our  being  at  all  events  able  to 
interchange  ideas  and  opinions  with  at  least  a  few 
dozens  of  human  beings,  and  then  consider  whether  it 
was  unnatural  that  this  young  man,  enduring  what 
was  practically  solitary  confinement  through  the  best 
years  of  his  life,  with  one  old  German  bookworm  and 
a  feast  of  books,  and  starting,  mark  you!  with  a 
strong  bent  in  the  same  direction,  should  become 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  the  world  had  any  other 
diet  to  offer. 

When  the  news  of  his  inheritance  reached  him  he 
realized  that  his  exile  was  over,  and  that  he  was  free 
at  last ;  but  it  was  not  with  unmixed  joy  that  he 
looked  forward  to  entering  the  whirlpool  of  life 
again.  He  had  lived  too  long  in  a  backwater  to  feel 
prepared  to  swim  in  full  stream. 

He  thought  of  Eleanor  with  some  apprehension,  but 


40  TEEVOK  LOKDSHIP 

at  the  same  time  the  idea  of  not  marrying  her  never 
crossed  his  mind.  That  was  an  unalterable  arrange- 
ment, as  much  part  of  him  as  his  eyes,  or  his  right 
hand,  but  he  only  hoped  that  she  would  not  make 
demands  upon  his  time.  He  had  existed,  rather 
more  dead  than  alive,  mentally,  he  considered,  for 
what  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  century,  and  now,  come 
what  might,  he  had  every  intention  of  arranging  his 
own  life,  and  enjoying  himself  in  his  own  way. 

But  very  soon  after  he  and  his  wife  came  to 
1  Trevor  Lordship,'  this  apprehension  vanished,  and 
he  was  more  content  than  he  had  ever  been  before. 

The  library,  which  was  a  noted  one,  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  some  one  who  really  knew  how  to  appre- 
ciate it,  and  sometimes,  as  he  sat  in  the  evening  with 
his  chair  drawn  up  to  the  uncurtained  window,  the 
lamp  just  where  the  light  fell  right,  and  turning  over 
the  pages  of  some  long-desired  treasure  with  reverent 
fingers,  he  felt  that  he  had  no  wish  ungratified.  He 
was  very  much  in  the  position  of  the  drunkard  who, 
after  having  been  for  years  limited  to  just  sufficient 
liquor  to  whet  his  appetite,  suddenly  finds  himself 
with  an  unlimited  quantity  ready  to  his  hand,  only 
waiting  for  him  to  help  himself. 

He  had  very  quickly  regulated  the  hours  of  the 
household  to  suit  his  own  convenience.  Early  rising 
had  become  a  habit,  and  he  rose  at  five  o'clock  every 
morning,  and,  after  an  early  cup  of  coffee,  rode  on 


'TKEVOK  LOKDSHIP'  41 

horseback  for  two  or  three  hours.  This  daily  pro- 
ceeding had  very  nearly  caused  a  rebellion  among  the 
respectable  servants,  to  whom  the  appearance  of  the 
master  of  the  house  before  eight-thirty,  at  earliest, 
was  an  indecent  thing;  but  of  this  he  was  quite  uncon- 
scious. Returning  about  eight  o'clock,  he  went  into 
the  library,  where  he  remained  until  the  gong  sounded 
for  luncheon.  After  luncheon  he  generally  walked 
round  the  small  farm  attached  to  the  gardens,  and 
then  he  was  not  visible  again  until  dinner  time.  It 
cannot  be  said  that  when  this  time-table  was  followed 
he  was  overburdened  with  the  society  of  his  wife.  But 
be  this  as  it  may,  he  was  supremely  contented. 

Eleanor  too  had  found  the  peace  for  which  she  had 
longed.  When  once  the  rest  and  quiet  had  restored 
to  her  her  usual  strength  of  mind  and  body,  she  had 
taken  up  such  occupations  as  lay  to  her  hand  with 
keen  enjoyment.  The  servants,  a  little  inclined  at 
first  to  resent  the  authority  of  a  new  mistress,  soon 
found  that  she  was  not  to  be  imposed  upon,  and,  in  a 
short  time,  learnt  to  respect  her  wishes.  There  is, 
after  all,  nothing  which  leads  to  this  happy  result 
more  rapidly  than  the  quickly  realized  fact  that  the 
mistress  knows  what  she  is  talking  about,  and  this 
Eleanor  certainly  did.  She  was  a  born  femme  de 
menage,  and  so  this  part  of  her  duties  took  up  very 
little  time. 

The  house  itself  was  a  great  delight  to  her.     Eliza- 


42  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

bethan  in  character,  what  restorations  had  from  time 
to  time  been  necessary  had  been  done  with  taste  and 
judgment,  for  the  result  was  not  apparent.  The 
staircase,  hall,  and  dining-room  were  panelled  in  old 
oak,  hung  with  a  few  good  portraits.  On  one  side 
of  the  large  hall  was  the  dining-room,  and  on  the 
other  the  library,  while  behind  the  latter  lay  a  pretty 
morning  room,  with  a  door  and  a  few  stone  steps 
leading  into  the  garden. 

The  drawing  room  was  upstairs,  as  is  frequently 
the  case  in  houses  of  this  date,  a  long,  low  room 
panelled  with  silk  of  a  delicate  faded  blue.  Over  the 
fireplace,  a  "  Claude  "  painting  was  framed  into  the 
white  over-mantel.  The  furniture  was  chiefly  French, 
with  a  few  good  examples  of  Sheraton  and  Hepple- 
white,  and  there  were  several  recesses  in  the  walls 
with  shelves  loaded  with  china. 

Miss  Price  had  been  a  collector  and  connoisseur  of 
porcelain,  and  Eleanor  had  learnt  enough  about  it 
from  her  to  highly  appreciate  her  new  possessions. 
The  most  severe  critic  would  have  found  very  little  to 
cavil  at  in  the  old  house  at  ( Trevor  Lordship,'  and 
Eleanor  was  certainly  not  critical.  Each  succeeding 
day  she  felt  her  love  for  the  place  growing  stronger. 

The  garden  was  also  a  never-ending  joy.  All  the 
late  summer  flowers  had  been  in  their  beauty  when 
she  first  saw  it,  and  now  each  day  was  clothing  the 
surrounding  landscape  in  more  beautiful  tints  of 


'TREVOR  LORDSHIP'  43 

crimson  and  gold.  The  old  gardener,  delighted  with 
her  appreciation  of  the  scene  of  his  lifelong  labours, 
was  ready  to  do  anything  in  the  world  to  please  her, 
even  to  cutting  his  most  cherished  blooms. 

Eleanor  had,  within  the  first  few  weeks  of  her 
married  life,  asked  her  husband  more  than  once  if 
she  were  not  usurping  authority  in  matters  which  he 
would  prefer  to  keep  under  his  own  control,  but  she 
soon  discovered  the  truth,  namely,  that,  so  long  as  he 
was  not  disturbed,  she  might  do  exactly  as  she  liked. 

She  did  not  forget  her  old  friend  in  the  midst  of 
her  new  content,  and  every  week  she  wrote  a  long 
letter  to  Miss  Price.  Letters  which  the  old  lady  read 
carefully,  answered  fondly,  and  then  laid  away  with 
a  sigh.  A  sigh  not  so  much  for  the  present,  as  for 
the  future  of  the  younger  woman  whom  she  so  dearly 
loved. 

It  is  a  pity  that  the  phrase,  "a  woman  with  a 
past,"  has  come  to  be  used  only  in  an  unpleasant 
sense.  If  we  divest  our  minds  of  this  modern  appli- 
cation of  the  words,  and  use  them  in  the  simple  and 
not  the  double  sense,  we  see  that  it  is  only  when  a 
woman  has  a  past,  when  she  has  lived  through  the 
fires  that  purify  while  they  burn,  that  she  is  really 
able  to  bring  the  deepest  sympathy,  and  the  fullest 
understanding,  to  bear  upon  the  lives  of  those  around 
her. 

Miss  Price  had  not  spent  all  her  life  in  a  quiet 


44  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

country  village  that  was  merely  the  haven  of  her 
later  years ;  and  the  lives  of  those  she  had  known,  the 
romance,  the  tragedy,  the  splendour,  and  the  squalor 
which  exist  under  the  cloak  in  which  it  is  the  merci- 
ful custom  for  us  to  hide  our  inner  selves  from 
strangers,  were  no  secret  to  her.  She  had  a  particu- 
larly strong  faculty  for  understanding  the  minds  of 
others,  when,  as  she  put  it,  they  were  worth  under- 
standing. So  she  sighed  as  she  laid  Eleanor's  weekly 
letters  together,  wondering  how  long  it  would  be  be- 
fore the  wife  realized  that  conjugal  affection,  even 
when  calm,  did  not  mean  merely  acting  as  house- 
keeper and  head  gardener;  and  when  that  day  came, 
what  would  be  the  result  ? 

It  is  an  axiom  that  men  are  creatures  of  habit.  By 
men,  presumably,  is  meant  the  human  race,  as  it  is  a 
feminine  as  well  as  a  masculine  characteristic.  But 
how  few  of  us  really  understand  how  large  a  part 
habit,  or  the  doing  the  thing  expected  of  us,  plays  in 
our  everyday  actions ! 

Both  Eleanor  and  Henry  Trevor,  but  particularly 
the  former,  would  have  been  profoundly  astonished  if 
any  one  had  suggested  to  them  that  they  had  married 
because  it  was  the  thing  expected  of  them,  the  thing 
that  they  had  expected  of  themselves,  and  not  from 
that  strong  desire  and  yearning  for  each  other,  which, 
after  all,  constitutes  the  greatest,  if  not  the  only, 
chance  of  making  a  success  of  the  undertaking. 


'TREVOR  LORDSHIP'  45 

They  had  allowed  themselves  to  drift  blindly  on 
the  stream  of  circumstances.  But  in  her  deep  affection 
for  Eleanor  Trevor,  Miss  Price  was  able  to  make  a 
shrewd  guess  at  the  truth,  and  she  knew  well  that 
her  mind  was  too  strong  for  this  state  of  things  to 
continue  indefinitely.  It  had  been,  as  it  were,  stupe- 
fied by  the  stagnant  surroundings  in  which  her  life 
had  for  years  been  passed,  but  that  was  altered  now, 
and  when  its  natural  power  reasserted  itself,  what 
would  happen?  Would  the  awakening,  when  it  came, 
be  for  weal  or  woe? 


CHAPTER   V 

LAVENDER 

"For  on  our  daily  road,  all  travellers  are  brothers  ! 
We  learn  from  all,  and  teach  something,  perchance,  to  others. 
Be  the  way  long  or  short,  in  sun  or  rainy  weather, 
We're  richer,  all,  I  know,  for  journeying  together." 

HAD  any  stranger  desired  information  regarding  the 
inhabitants  of  the  village  of  'Trevor  Lordship/  he 
would,  had  he  been  wise  in  his  generation,  have  gone 
to  the  sexton  for  it.  The  connection  between  provid- 
ing seemly  resting-places  for  the  departed,  and  having 
an  intimate  knowledge  of  every  detail  of  the  lives  of 
the  living  is  not  apparent,  but  the  two  frequently  go 
together. 

This  worthy  would,  in  all  probability,  have  led  the 
enquirer  as  far  as  the  lych-gate,  for  this  point  of 
vantage  afforded  a  coup  (Tail  of  the  main  street  of 
the  village,  which  was,  in  point  of  fact,  the  only 
street  it  boasted. 

On  either  side  of  the  wide  thoroughfare  were  only 
two  houses  worthy  of  note.  On  the  right-hand  side 
lived  Dr.  Walker  and  Mr.  Stephens  the  solicitor,  and 
on  the  left  hand  Captain  Maitland  and  Lavender 
Hagger.  It  would  have  been  obvious  from  the  sexton's 
tone  that  the  first  two  people  were  of  no  particular 

46 


LAVENDER  47 

interest,  but  that  the  last  two  named  were  of  the 
highest  importance  to  the  community. 

This  was  the  case,  although  their  stations  in  life 
were  very  different,  one  being  Captain  Maitland, 
R.N.  (retired),  and  the  other  being  Mrs.  Lavender 
Hagger,  of  the  village  shop. 

In  the  opinion  of  Mrs.  Stephens,  the  solicitor's 
wife,  this  was  a  ridiculous  state  of  things,  and  quite 
undeserved.  It  rankled  in  the  good  lady's  mind 
that,  in  spite  of  her  long  residence  in  the  village,  she 
had  never  been  able  to  attain  to  the  pinnacle  of  fame 
attained  by  Lavender  Hagger,  Grocer. 

Why  did  every  one  go  to  the  little  shop  with  their 
troubles  and  worries,  and,  still  harder  to  bear,  with 
their  gossip?  To  be  first  with  any  piece  of  news 
was  the  joy  of  her  life,  and  there  was  very  little 
of  that  commodity  in  { Trevor  Lordship.'  Also,  why 
quiet  old  Captain  Maitland,  who  saw  few  friends  of 
his  own  standing,  and  never  even  gave  a  dinner 
party!  should  be  so  popular,  she  was  at  a  loss  to 
understand.  But  then,  it  must  be  granted,  she  was 
not  a  lady  of  discernment. 

The  Captain  had  lived  in  the  house  next  to  the 
quaint  little  shop  for  over  twenty  years.  Vide  the 
sexton,  he  had  been  to  the  North  Pole,  and  nearly 
died  there.  He  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  the 
late  Sir  Henry  Trevor,  and  Eleanor  had  not  been 
many  weeks  in  her  new  home  before  a  warm  friend- 


48  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

ship  grew  up  between  her  and  the  old  man.  At  first 
sight  he  was  not  a  striking  figure,  short  and  spare, 
with  a  quiet,  rather  grave  manner,  and  faded  blue 
eyes  with  a  sad  expression  in  them  when  he  was 
silent.  When  he  spoke,  however,  the  sadness  van- 
ished, and  such  a  change  came  over  his  face  that  the 
first  time  Eleanor  saw  it  she  felt  that  she  must  have 
been  mistaken,  and  that  it  was  not  sad  at  all.  Such 
a  sympathy  and  lovingkindness  seemed  to  radiate 
from  him,  and  there  at  once  was  the  reason  why 
every  one  loved  him,  and  why  he  never  walked 
through  the  village  without  a  trail  of  little  attend- 
ants who  hung  upon  his  every  word  and  look.  He 
certainly  was  one  of  the  most  delightful  people 
Eleanor  had  ever  met. 

One  afternoon,  late  in  October,  she  paid  him  a 
visit,  in  order  to  choose  for  herself  some  plants  of 
a  particular  Michaelmas  daisy  which  she  wished  to 
possess  for  her  herbaceous  border,  and  having  de- 
cided this  point  to  her  satisfaction,  Captain  Maitland 
volunteered  to  accompany  her  as  far  as  the  lodge, 
and  they  passed  down  the  street  together. 

"  Have  you  made  the  acquaintance  of  Lavender 
yet  ?  "  asked  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Eleanor,  smiling ;  "  isn't  she  a 
wonderful  woman  ?  That  type  of  real  old-fashioned 
country  woman  did  not  exist  in  the  village  where  I 
used  to  live.  Do  tell  me  something  about  her  life." 


LAVENDER  49 

"  She  has  had  rather  a  struggle,"  was  the  answer. 
"Her  husband  was  an  honest,  stupid,  thoroughly 
well-intentioned  man,  who  never  made  any  money 
in  his  life.  He  died  about  ten  years  ago.  She  has 
had  many  children,  but  all  died  young,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  one,  a  daughter,  who  married  six  or  seven 
years  back.  She  was  the  child  of  Lavender's  old  age, 
and  her  mother  adored  her,  and,  in  consequence,  I 
fear,  spoilt  her  a  little.  When  she  was  about  twenty, 
she  ran  away  from  home,  and  married  a  man  of 
rather  bad  character,  half  a  gipsy,  and  wholly  a  ne'er- 
do-well,  much  to  her  mother's  grief.  She  had  done 
all  she  could  for  several  years  to  stop  the  affair, 
and  afterwards  could  only  be  thankful  they  were 
married." 

"  Does  she  live  here  too  ?  "  asked  Eleanor. 

"  They  live  in  a  caravan,  and  move  about  from 
place  to  place,  which  the  old  woman  feels  is  a  dread- 
ful come  down,  but  she  never  says  much  about  it. 
And  certainly  the  few  times  I  have  seen  the  girl,  she 
looks  beamingly  happy.  She  brought  her  baby  to 
see  me  last  year,  and  both  she  and  the  child  looked 
pictures  of  health.  I  do  not  think  the  shop  is  a  very 
lucrative  business  now.  The  stores  at  Larnham,  only 
five  miles  off,  have  cut  into  the  old  trade  very  much, 
I  fancy." 

"We  must  give  her  some  orders,"  said  Eleanor; 
"  which  reminds  me  that  I  had  forgotten  to  buy  the 


50  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

ball  of  string  I  wanted.  Do  you  mind  very  much 
if  we  go  back?  It  isn't  very  far.  I  wonder  why 
string  has  such  a  peculiar  faculty  for  disappearing, 
—  and  pens  too,"  she  added,  smiling. 

"I  have  sometimes  thought,"  responded  her  com- 
panion, as  they  retraced  their  steps,  "  that  there  is  a 
tribe  of  invisible  domestic  demons  who  run  off  with 
the  very  thing  you  are  looking  for,  and  then,  when 
you  have,  in  despair,  given  up  looking  for  it,  Hey, 
presto !  it  is  lying  in  front  of  your  nose,  generally  in 
its  proper  place.  Have  you  never  noticed  it  with 
letters?  If  I  want  to  answer  a  letter,  which  I  am 
thankful  to  say  is  not  often,  I  lay  it  down  on  my 
table,  and  the  next  moment  it  has  vanished  into  thin 
air.  After  a  frenzied  search  among  my  papers,  I 
give  it  up,  and  lo  and  behold !  there  it  is  again." 

"  1  don't  think  I  have  noticed  it  with  letters,"  she 
replied.  "  But  it  certainly  is  the  case  with  string  !  " 

The  Captain  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and 
gravely  produced  two  pieces  of  string,  one  thick,  and 
one  thin,  done  up  sailor  fashion  into  little  hanks. 

"  My  life  depended  once  on  a  piece  of  string  no  thicker 
than  that.  Try  my  plan,  and  always  carry  some." 

"Ah ! "  laughed  Eleanor,  "men  have  the  advantage 
of  us  in  the  matter  of  pockets." 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  the  little  shop  was 
crowded  when  they  entered.  It  did  not  take  many 
people  to  crowd  it.  Behind  the  counter  old  Lavender 


LAVENDER  51 

was  busy  serving  her  customers,  and  dispensing  goods 
and  advice  at  the  same  time. 

"  Ah !  Mrs.  May,"  she  was  saying,  as  Eleanor 
came  in,  "  try  camomile  flowers ;  there's  nothing  like 
them,  you  may  be  sure." 

"Nought  seems  to  touch  it,  not  a  bit,"  was  the 
reply,  given  in  lugubrious  tones.  "  Some  one  told 
me  to  try  alum,  said  that  was  what  the  doctors  used, 
but  it  warn't  no  manner  of  use." 

"  You  can't  expect  to  cure  a  thing  at  once,"  replied 
Lavender,  briskly.  "  Try  camomile  flowers,  and 
hope.  Good-evening,  m'  lady,  what  may  I  do  for 
you?" 

Eleanor  stated  her  requirements,  but  added  that 
she  could  wait  a  moment. 

"  You  must  not  keep  your  customers  waiting  for 
me.  Good-evening,  Mrs.  May,"  she  went  on,  turning 
to  the  woman  who  had  just  spoken.  "  I  hope  your 
husband  is  better  ?  " 

"  No,  m'  lady,  he  isn't,  not  a  bit.  He's  just  a  slip- 
ping off.  He  says  to  me  this  day,  says  he,  '  My  dear, 
don't  you  worry  to  walk  to  t'  shop,  for  I'll  be  gone 
before  you  come  back.'  That  was  the  very  words  he 
said,  and  I  never  was  one  as  held  with  trying  to  keep 
them  back  what  wished  to  go.  But  I  came  down  to 
get  a  few  things  for  him,"  she  added,  with  uncon- 
scious inconsistency. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  May,"  said  Lavender,  "  don't  go  talk- 


52  TKEVOK,  LORDSHIP 

ing  like  that.  If  that's  the  sort  of  talk  you  give  to 
William,  there's  no  wonder  he's  bad.  Give  him  a 
turn  of  cheerfulness." 

"  'Tain't  every  one  'as  got  cheerfulness  to  give,"  put 
in  another  woman. 

"Well,"  Lavender  replied,  "my  brother,  as  used 
to  be  coachman  up  at  yours,  m'  lady,"  she  nodded  at 
Eleanor,  "  many  years  ago  used  to  say  'twas  a  mair 
ter  of  a  sluggish  liver.  Many  and  many's  the  time 
I've  heard  him  say,  '  When  you  feels  like  that,  put 
your  trust  in  God,  and  take  a  bite  off  a  horse-ball ! ' : 

Eleanor  laughed  heartily,  there  was  something 
irresistibly  funny  in  the  old  lady's  manner.  As  she 
spoke,  she  nodded  her  head  repeatedly  all  the  time. 
The  light  of  a  lamp  which  hung  from  the  ceiling 
shone  on  the  small,  tight  knob  into  which  her  Avhite 
hair  was  drawn,  giving  her  the  appearance  of  a 
nodding  little  Chinese  god,  and  her  brown  hands  were 
moving  quickly  this  way  and  that,  weighing,  folding, 
tying,  with  the  dexterity  born  of  long  practice. 

"  That's  a  long  way  to  go  home,  that  it  is,  when 
you've  shoppin's  to  carry,"  resumed  Mrs.  May,  plain- 
tively ;  "  and  that  path  through  the  mill  field,  that  is 
rough ! " 

"  Ay,  that  it  is,"  chipped  in  one  or  two  voices. 

"  I  spoke  to  Mr.  Brown  about  it  a  week  or  two 
back,  I  did.  I  said  'twere  a  wonder  as  my  legs 
weren't  broke.  And  what  do  you  think  he  said  ?  " 


LA  VENDEE  53 

There  was  a  moment's  breathless  silence  among 
the  audience,  as  she  waited  to  emphasize  the  effect  of 
her  words. 

"  He  said/'  she  announced  dramatically,  "  that 
1  some  of  us  needed  a  rough  path ' !  That's  what  he 
said.  There !  What  d'ye  think  of  that  ? " 

"  It  wasn't  quite  kind,"  Eleanor  replied. 

"No,  m'  lady,  that  it  weren't,  not  quite  kind,  but" 
and  her  voice  dropped  back  into  its  former  lugubrious 
tone,  as  she  picked  up  her  basket  and  prepared  to  go 
—  "  it's  got  to  be  trod,  and  I'm  main  sure  he'll  not  be 
there  when  I  get  back." 

"  Come,  come  !  "  put  in  Lavender,  decidedly,  as  she 
took  down  the  string  for  Eleanor.  "Just  you  go 
home  and  try  camomile  flowers,  and  hope.  Good- 
night. Good-night." 

A  few  moments  later,  Eleanor  and  Captain  Mait- 
land  resumed  their  walk.  It  was  dusk,  and  the  air 
was  full  of  coming  frost.  That  first  frost  of  autumn 
which  seems  to  brace  us,  body  and  soul,  after  the 
relaxation  of  summer's  heat. 

"  I  hope  I  did  not  keep  you  too  long,  but  really  it 
was  so  interesting." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  he  answered  heartily.  "  I  often  go 
into  the  shop  on  a  Saturday  night,  just  to  stand  and 
watch.  It  is  better  than  a  theatre  to  me,  because 
even  if  they  do  act  a  little,  like  Mrs.  May,  it  is  quite 
unconsciously.  What  a  picture  it  made,  didn't  it? 


64  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

The  group  of  tired,  toil-worn  faces  in  half  shadow, 
and  the  light  shining  full  on  old  Lavender.  Do  you 
know,  Lady  Trevor,  that  she  is  one  of  those  people 
for  whom  time  stands  still,  I  think.  She  hasn't 
altered  a  scrap  since  I  first  knew  her,  twenty  years 
ago.  The  first  time  I  saw  her  she  was  standing,  just 
as  she  was  to-night,  full  of  cheerfulness,  sympathy, 
and  good  sense,  and  oh  dear !  how  funny  she  is  some- 
times, without  in  the  least  meaning  it.  Now  which 
was  the  cure  for  depression  really  ?  The  horse-ball, 
or  the  trust  in  God  ? " 

"  Oh,  undoubtedly  the  two  together,"  returned 
Eleanor,  laughing.  "  That  was  the  whole  point,  like 
the  camomile  flowers  and  hope.  I  do  not  know  who 
lives  here,"  she  added,  as  they  passed  a  gateway, 
leading  into  what,  in  the  fading  light,  appeared  to  be 
a  shrubbery. 

"  That,"  said  the  Captain,  "  is  a  house  of  mystery. 
Not  really,  you  know,  but  if  the  gossips  in  a  little 
village  are  not  able  to  find  out  everything,  they  im- 
mediately hint  at  a  secret.  It  belongs  to  the  Mr.  Brown 
who  owns  the  famous  path,  a  butcher  in  Larnham. 
A  cousin  of  your  husband's  lived  in  it  for  some  time, 
and  there  used  to  be  a  gate  leading  from  the  garden 
into  your  park,  but  I  suppose  it  is  closed  now.  A 
Scotchman  and  his  wife  live  there  now,  Mollison  by 
name.  Very  quiet,  respectable  people  of  the  farmer 
class,  but  as  he  does  no  work  beyond  looking  after 


LAVENDER  55 

the  garden,  the  villagers  ask,  '  Where  does  he  get  his 
money  from  ? ' 

"  Is  that  all  the  mystery  ?  " 

"  Well,  there  is  a  rumour  that  there  is  a  mysterious 
lady  living  there,  who  is  his  employer,  but  how  true 
that  is,  I  don't  know.  The  little  place  is  quite 
secluded,  and  no  one  ever  sees  any  one  except  the 
man,  and  very  occasionally  the  wife.  Mrs.  Stephens 
is  getting  quite  thin  in  her  unsuccessful  efforts  to  find 
out  the  truth.  She  ventured  to  the  house  once,  I 
believe,  but  was  routed  by  Mrs.  Mollison." 

"  If  there  is  any  one  living  there,  there  seems  to  be 
no  reason  why  they  should  not  be  left  alone,  if  they 
do  not  desire  company." 

"  In  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Stephens,"  continued  Captain 
Maitland,  with>a  smile,  "  there  is  a  crime  in  seclusion. 
Poor  woman !  she  has  her  points,  but  she  is  a  square 
peg  in  a  round  hole.  She  ought  to  live  in  a  suburb 
of  London,  where  tea  fights  and  muffin  worries  abound, 
and  every  one  lives  on  their  neighbour's  doormat,  and 
all  the  domestic  details  are  hung  out  on  a  line,  like  the 
family  washing." 

"  With  a  label  displayed  in  the  area,  i  No  privacy 
permitted,'  like  '  No  bottles,'  "  laughed  Eleanor.  "  It 
is  lucky  we  don't  all  think  alike ! " 

"  Fortunately  we  don't  all  consider  a  person  of 
reserve  to  be  a  shade  worse  than  a  burglar ! "  the 
Captain  continued.  "  Personally,  my  fellow-creatures 


56  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

interest  me  enormously,  but  I  shouldn't  like  to  pry 
into  their  private  affairs,  any  more  than  I  should  like 
them  to  pry  into  mine.  After  all,  we  are  all  steering 
the  same  course,  and  when  I  see  a  ship,  I  like  to 
speak  it,  to  pass  the  time  of  day,  and  hear  if  all's  well 
with  them,  but  I  shouldn't  think  of  boarding  them, 
and  insisting  upon  reading  their  log,  unless  I  was 
especially  invited  to  do  so.  Every  one  has  entries 
intended  only  for  the  eye  of  the  Superior  Officer. 
Haven't  you  found  that  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  Eleanor 
said  slowly :  — 

"  I  think  there  are  entries  which  we  sometimes 
do  not  quite  understand  ourselves." 

"  They  will  be  made  clear  when  the  accounts  are 
squared,  and  we  are  paid  off,"  he  said  simply. 
"  But  here  we  are  at  your  door,  Lady  Trevor.  I 
have  come  further  than  I  intended." 

"  Won't  you  come  in  for  a  little  ?  " 

"No,  thank  you,"  was  the  reply.  "It  is  getting 
chilly ;  I  will  be  getting  home  now.  Good-night,"  as 
they  shook  hands,  "and  thank  you  for  a  pleasant  walk." 

As  Eleanor  crossed  the  hall,  the  butler  came 
forward. 

"  If  you  please,  my  lady,"  he  said,  "  Sir  Henry 
has  been  asking  for  you.  A  gentleman  of  the 
name  of  Locke  is  with  him,  came  about  two  hours 
ago.  A  lawyer,  I  think,  my  lady." 


LAVENDER  57 

He  was  evidently  interested  in  the  visitor,  as  is 
the  way  of  an  old  servant.  • 

"  Tell  Sir  Henry  I  will  be  with  him  in  five  minutes, 
Turner,"  she  replied,  as  she  hurried  upstairs  to  remove 
her  coat  and  hat.  "  How  unfortunate,"  she  thought 
to  herself,  "that  I  should  happen  to  be  out  the 
very  first  time  he  sends  for  me." 


CHAPTER  VI 

AN  INTERVIEW 

"  For  nothing  on  earth  is  sadder 

Than  the  dream  that  cheated  the  grasp." 

—  A.  L.  GORDON. 

"  MR.  LOCKE  has  brought  me  an  unexpected  piece 
of  information,  Eleanor,"  said  Sir  Henry,  when,  a 
few  minutes  later,  she  entered  the  library.  He 
seemed  a  little  perturbed,  she  thought,  as  he  stood 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  repeatedly  passing  his  hand 
over  his  hair.  She  had  learnt  that  this  little  trick 
showed  itself  when  anything  occurred  to  disturb  the 
even  tenor  of  his  thoughts. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  lawyer ;  "  I  am  afraid  it  was 
quite  unexpected." 

"I  think  the  best  plan  will  be  for  you  to  give 
Lady  Trevor  the  facts  as  you  have  given  them  to 
me,  Mr.  Locke." 

Eleanor  sat  down  in  the  chair  her  husband  placed 
for  her,  wondering  what  in  the  world  she  was  going 
to  hear.  Her  thoughts  flew  round  in  different  direc- 
tions, but  she  could  think  of  nothing  likely  to  have 
necessitated  her  presence.  Then  Mr.  Locke  began. 

"  You  may  perhaps  know,  Lady  Trevor,  that  your 
husband  had  a  relation,  a  second  cousin,  one  Robert 

58 


AN  INTERVIEW  59 

Trevor;  a  widower,  who  has  been  living  at  Wimble- 
don with  his  two  daughters.  He  died  recently,  and 
in  his  will,  of  which  I  am  an  executor,  he  leaves  the 
guardianship  of  his  two  daughters  in  the  hands  of 
two  people,  Sir  Henry  Trevor,  of  i  Trevor  Lordship,' 
and  a  certain  Lady  Vernon  who  lives  in  London. 
Sir  Henry  has  just  been  explaining  to  me  that  he 
was  never  acquainted  with  his  kinsman,  and  is,  in 
consequence,  much  surprised  at  being  appointed 
guardian.  The  will  is  dated  some  seven  years  ago, 
and  I  think  it  is  evident  that  the  Sir  Henry  Trevor 
mentioned  is  not  your  husband,  but  his  predecessor 
and  uncle,  who  died,  I  understand,  some  months  ago. 

"  Robert  Trevor  left  very  little  money.  The  young 
ladies  will  have  a  joint  income  of  only  about  £200 
a  year.  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  them  in  the 
last  few  weeks,  and  they  appear  to  have  no  near 
relations  to  turn  to  in  their  trouble." 

"  Who  is  Lady  Vernon,  the  other  guardian  ? " 
asked  Eleanor,  as  the  lawyer  paused. 

"  She  is  the  widow  of  a  city  knight,  a  Sir  William 
Vernon,  who  was,  I  think,  connected  with  the  big 
soap  firm  of  that  name.  She  is  very  rich,  I  believe, 
but,  on  the  only  occasion  upon  which  I  met  her, 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  most  overpowering  lady, 
with  very  decided  opinions.  The  Miss  Trevors  do 
not  know  her  well,  and  I  cannot  understand  what 
prompted  their  father  to  appoint  her  one  of  their 


60  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

guardians.  I  think  I  may  say,"  added  Mr.  Locke, 
with  a  slight  smile,  "  that  they  are  not  attracted  to 
her." 

"  Has  she  offered  to  give  them  a  home  ?  "  enquired 
Eleanor. 

"  No,  the  only  offer  she  has  made  up  to  the  present 
was  to  find  a  post  for  Miss  Mildred  as  governess.  It 
was  her  opinion  that  if  this  were  done,  the  money 
could  then  be  devoted  to  completing  Miss  Joan's 
education,  an  offer  which  I  need  not  tell  you  the 
young  ladies  have  resented.  They  are  greatly  averse 
to  the  idea  of  being  parted." 

"  That  is  quite  natural,"  said  Eleanor.  "  I  should 
not  have  thought  there  was  any  necessity  for  it." 

"  Where  are  they  at  this  moment  ? "  asked  her 
husband. 

"  They  are  staying  in  the  house  where  they  have 
lived  for  some  time  with  their  father.  A  friend  of 
theirs,  a  Mrs.  Lucas,  who  lives  close  by,  is  very  kind 
to  them.  Some  plan  will  have  to  be  made  very  soon, 
however,  as  it  so  happens  that  the  lease  of  the  house 
expires  shortly.  Mr.  Trevor  had  intended  moving, 
just  before  he  was  taken  ill." 

"  You  have  a  copy  of  the  will  with  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Sir  Henry,"  answered  the  lawyer,  as  he 
opened  his  bag,  and  laid  the  document  on  the  table. 
Then  he  glanced  at  the  clock.  "  I  have  to  catch  a 
train  at  Larnham,"  he  said ;  "  I  am  sorry  to  be  in  a 


AN  INTERVIEW  61 

hurry,  but  I  am  a  busy  man.  I  should  have  come 
several  days  ago,  had  it  not  been  that  business  pre- 
vented me ;  and  it  is  imperative  that  I  return  to 
London  this  evening." 

"You  will  have  something  to  eat  before  you  go," 
said  Sir  Henry,  rising  and  ringing  the  bell.  "  There 
is,  of  course,  a  good  deal  to  be  said  on  the  subject,  and 
I  must  talk  it  over  with  my  wife." 

"Naturally,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "And  also,  Sir 
Henry,  you  will  understand  that  you  are  in  no  way 
bound  to  act  in  the  matter ;  it  can  easily  be  proved 
that  you  are  not  the  person  mentioned,  or  intended 
as  guardian,  should  you  prefer  to  be  free  from  the 
responsibility;  but  —  "  he  paused. 

«  Oh  !  "  said  Eleanor,  quickly,  "  I  don't  think  —  " 
and  she  too  stopped  and  hesitated. 

Her  husband  looked  at  her,  and  then  said :  — 

"  There  is  no  question  of  that,  I  think ;  but  I  do 
not  wish  to  come  to  any  hasty  decision.  You  shall 
have  a  telegram  on  Monday  morning." 

Eleanor  was  sitting  reading  in  the  drawing-room 
later  in  the  same  evening,  when,  contrary  to  his  cus- 
tom, Sir  Henry  joined  her.  She  had  expected  him, 
however,  as  he  had  made  no  allusion  to  the  lawyer's 
visit  during  dinner. 

"  You  do  not  think  I  should  be  justified  in  declin- 
ing the  guardianship  ?  "  he  said,  plunging  into  the 
heart  of  the  matter  at  once. 


62  TEEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

"No,"  said  Eleanor,  "I  do  not  think  you  would." 

"I  am  glad  you  agree  with  me,"  was  his  reply. 
"  You  see,  I  inherited  everything  from  my  uncle,  so  I 
feel  I  must  undertake  the  rough  with  the  smooth. 
One  has  to  pay  a  penalty  for  being  the  head  of  the 
family." 

"  From  what  Mr.  Locke  said,  the  girls  sound  very 
nice,  and  I  am  so  sorry  for  the  poor  little  things  left 
all  alone  to  strangers,  —  because,  after  all,  you  are  a 
stranger  to  them.  I  can  quite  understand  they  can- 
not bear  to  be  parted,  and  I  think  it  was  heartless  of 
Lady  Vernon  to  suggest  it.  Did  you  never  know 
their  father?" 

"  So  far  as  I  can  remember,"  said  her  husband,  "  I 
have  never  seen  him  in  my  life  ;  but  I  am  quite  will- 
ing to  do  my  best  for  his  girls." 

"  Well,  there  is  plenty  of  room  here,"  said  Eleanor, 
after  a  pause. 

Sir  Henry  started. 

"  Do  you  think  they  need  come  here  ?  "  he  asked. 
"I  didn't  —  " 

"  What  arrangements  were  you  thinking  of  mak- 
ing?" 

"  Well,  I  hardly  know,"  he  returned  slowly ;  "  but 
I  thought  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  place  them  in 
some  nice  family,  or  something  of  that  kind.  I  cer- 
tainly had  no  thought  of  asking  them  here.  I  have 
never  been  used  to  children." 


AN   INTERVIEW  63 

"  How  old  are  they  ?  "  she  asked,  smiling  at  his  tone. 

"  Mildred  is  eighteen,  and  Joan  eight,  Mr.  Locke 
said.  Did  you  mean  to  suggest  that  they  should  live 
with  us  altogether  ?  " 

"  Doesn't  that  seem  the  most  obvious  thing  ?  We 
are  only  two  in  this  large  house,  and  I  really  think  it 
would  be  very  pleasant  to  have  them.  Or,  if  you 
preferred  it,  they  could  come  on  a  visit  to  start  with, 
which  might  be  continued  indefinitely  if  the  arrange- 
ment answered.  Or  we  could  discuss  it  again,  if  you 
found  you  would  rather  be  without  them." 

Sir  Henry  looked  very  worried.  If  his  wife  had 
suggested  bringing  a  troupe  of  performing  apes  into 
the  house,  he  could  hardly  have  looked  more  dis- 
tressed. 

"  I  don't  understand  children,"  he  said  again.  "  I 
am  sure  it  will  be  dreadfully  disturbing." 

Eleanor  really  felt  quite  sorry  for  him. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  want  you  to  ask  them 
here  against  your  own  wish,  but  really  a  girl  of 
eighteen  is  a  woman,  and  I  don't  think  little  Joan 
will  be  very  noisy.  You  see,  she  has  had  no  young 
brothers  or  sisters,  and  must  have  been  accustomed 
to  living  with  older  people." 

"  It  has  been  so  delightfully  quiet  and  peaceful," 
said  Sir  Henry,  regretfully.  "  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much  I  have  enjoyed  it.  But  perhaps  you  have 
found  it  a  little  dull?" 


64  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Eleanor,  quickly.  "I 
think  I  have  enjoyed  it  every  bit  as  much  as  you 
have.  I  am  beginning  to  love  the  old  place  so  much, 
and  I  quite  sympathize  with  your  enjoyment  of  it, 
after  so  many  years  away  from  home." 

"  I  think  that  is  why  I  am  so  loath  to  have  our  life 
here  altered  in  any  way.  But  perhaps  you  are  right. 
Anyway,  let  them  come,  as  you  suggest,  and  we  will 
talk  it  over  again  later,  if  it  does  not  answer." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said.  "  If  you  like,  I  will  write 
to  them  and  make  all  arrangements.  They  had  better 
come  soon ;  there  is  no  reason  for  delay.  If  you  will 
write  to  Mr.  Locke,  you  need  not  trouble  about  them, 
but  leave  it  to  me  to  settle." 

She  smiled  as  she  spoke.  She  was  beginning  to 
understand  her  husband,  she  thought. 

"  Oh,  do,  please,"  he  said,  in  obvious  relief.  "  By 
the  way,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  had  a  letter  from 
Minnie  to-day.  She  and  my  mother  want  to  come 
down  here.  You  might  write  to  them,  if  you  will. 
The  keeper  says  there  are  some  pheasants  to  be 
shot,  and  I  thought  perhaps  we  might  ask  a  gun  or 
two  while  they  are  here.  Minnie  would  find  it  very 
dull  if  we  were  quite  alone,  and  I  suppose  the 
birds  must  be  killed,  though  I  don't  want  a  large 
party." 

"No,"  said  Eleanor.  "I  should  not  care  about 
that,  for  the  sake  of  the  girls.  They  will  be  in  deep 


AN  INTERVIEW  65 

mourning.  I  suppose  you  will  ask  Captain  Maitland 
to  shoot?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  Doctor,  I  think,  and  Roger  Bolding. 
That's  four  guns,  with  myself.  We  must  try  and  pick 
up  another;  we  shall  want  five,  Davis  says.  What 
an  age  it  is  since  I  shot  a  pheasant ! " 

"  I  expect  you  will  enjoy  it." 

Presently  his  mind  returned  to  the  question  of  his 
wards,  for  he  said :  — 

"  What  shall  you  do  with  them  all  day  ?  It  isn't 
as  if  it  was  only  for  a  week,  like  any  other  visitors." 
Then  he  added  suddenly,  "  I  do  trust  they  will  not 
come  into  the  library !  "  His  tone  was  almost  fright- 
ened, and  Eleanor  laughed  outright. 

"  I  will  promise  you  they  shall  not  do  that,  and  I 
really  think  their  presence  in  the  house  will  not  incon- 
venience you  in  any  way." 

Sir  Henry  did  not  speak  for  some  time ;  he  sat 
leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  his  hands  clasped  in 
front  of  him,  his  thoughts  evidently  far  away.  He 
was  never  a  man  of  many  words,  and  was  inclined  to 
be  absent-minded. 

"  I  am  sorry  he  seems  to  dislike  the  prospect  of  the 
girls'  coming  so  much,"  she  thought;  "  but  he  doesn't 
understand,  and  takes  it  for  granted  that  they  will 
be  barbarians." 

It  was  delightful  to  feel  that  he  was  so  contented, 
and  it  would  be  most  unfortunate  if  the  arrival  of  his 
wards  really  disturbed  his  life  in  any  way. 


66  TREVOR,  LORDSHIP 

"  Do  not  have  them  if  you  really  dislike  the  idea," 
she  said  quietly. 

"  Oh,  no ! "  he  said,  "  I  was  not  thinking  of  that. 
By  all  means  let  them  come.  I  am  afraid  my  thoughts 
had  gone  a  long  way  back."  He  hesitated,  and  then 
went  on,  speaking  slowly  as  if  he  had  a  difficulty  in 
voicing  his  thoughts.  "Do  you  know,  those  years 
are  already  beginning  to  feel  like  a  bad  dream  ?  I 
don't  think  any  one  can  realize  what  it  is  to  me  to  be 
at  home  now.  You  hear  of  people  spending  their 
lives  in  a  foreign  country,  but  I  cannot  understand 
how  they  can  ever  feel  at  home  there.  I  had  my 
occupations  and  my  work,  of  course,  but  I  worked  be- 
cause I  had  to,  and  not  because  I  liked  it,  and  I  can 
only  say  that  never  for  one  moment  was  the  life  out 
there  anything  but  distasteful  to  me.  It  is  true  that 
one  did  not  always  feel  it  as  acutely  as  one  did  the 
first  year,  but  it  came  to  be  a  mechanical  life,  a  sort 
of  treadmill," — he  smiled  as  he  spoke.  "I  think  I 
never  lost  the  feeling  of  isolation  and  distance." 

Again  he  hesitated,  then  continued,  speaking  rather 
faster. 

"  You  may  wonder  at  my  desiring  quiet  in  my  life 
here,  and  think  I  must  have  had  plenty  out  there,  but 
I  can  only  say  that  out  there  it  seemed  an  empty  si- 
lence, and  here,  the  quiet  is  so  full  of  interest  and 
thought.  In  undisturbed  leisure,  to  follow  the  minds 
of  great  thinkers  into  wider  and  wider  paths,  is  so  ab- 


AN  INTERVIEW  67 

sorbing.  It  is  what  I  have  always  so  keenly  desired 
to  do,  that  perhaps  I  may  be  forgiven  if,  now  that  I 
have  the  chance  of  obtaining  all  that  has  been  denied 
me  hitherto,  I  am  unwilling  to  lose  it,  unwilling  to  let 
anything  interfere  with  what,  to  me,  is  such  a  real  de- 
light. Certainly  in  my  most  ambitious  moments,  and 
in  my  most  extravagant  dreams,  I  never  imagined  that 
I  should  be  the  possessor  of  a  library  like  this."  He 
pointed  with  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  his  room. 
"  I  really  grudge  a  moment  passed  away  from  my 
friends  in  there." 

"  I  quite  understand,"  said  Eleanor,  gently.  "  You 
have  got  what  you  always  wished  for ;  why  shouldn't 
you  enjoy  it  ?  " 

"  More,"  he  said,  "  more  than  I  ever  hoped  for." 
He  sat  on  without  speaking.  Eleanor  felt  touched 
by  what  he  had  just  said.  He  was  not  a  man  given 
to  speaking  of  himself  and  his  own  thoughts  and  fan- 
cies, and  he  had  hitherto  told  her  nothing  of  his  years 
of  exile,  except  in  a  very  general  way.  Now,  for  the 
first  time  it  struck  her  what  he  had  lost  in  those  years 
that  the  locusts  had  eaten.  Where  were  the  dreams 
and  ambitions  of  his  early  youth,  those  visions  of  liter- 
ary greatness  which  he  had  confided  to  her  so  long  ago  ? 
He  had  been  so  full  of  enthusiasm,  so  sure  of  himself, 
his  powers,  his  future.  If  any  one  had  suggested  to 
him  that  he  would  have  reached  the  age  of  forty  no 
step  nearer  the  fulfilment  of  those  ambitions,  he  would 


68  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

have  scoffed  at  the  idea.  Long  before  then  he  would 
have  made  a  name  for  himself,  have  given  to  the  world 
the  full  harvest  of  those  great  thoughts  which  were 
struggling  for  expression  in  the  richness  and  fertility 
of  his  young  mind.  The  seeds  would  have  become 
flowers,  the  flowers  would  have  borne  fruit,  fruit  to 
feed  and  enrich  the  generation  in  which  he  lived,  and 
the  generations  yet  to  be  born. 

It  was  as  if  his  few  halting  words  of  confidence, 
the  first  confidence  on  this  side  of  that  gulf  of  years, 
had  been  a  key  to  unlock  a  hidden  chamber  of 
memory  in  Eleanor's  mind,  and  as  she  sat  and  watched 
him,  lost  in  thought,  recollection  after  recollection 
from  that  chamber  crowded  into  her  mind,  and  with 
them  came  a  sense  of  profound  pity  for  this  man's 
wasted  youth. 

For  it  was  a  tragedy.  What  could  be  more  tragic 
than  such  great  hopes  doomed  to  wither  away  to 
nothing,  such  profitless  years,  such  a  promise  in 
spring  and  such  a  dearth  in  summer.  And  as  she 
thought,  she  blamed  herself  bitterly  that  she  had  not 
realized  it  before ;  why  had  she  not  done  so  ?  The 
humiliating  answer  came  quickly  in  response,  "Be- 
cause she  had  not  thought  about  it!" 

It  is  the  answer  to  the  same  question  so  many 
times  in  our  lives.  We  so  seldom  think  until  some 
chance  word  or  meeting  makes  a  sudden  break  and 
eddy,  as  it  were,  in  the  smooth-running  stream  of  our 


AN  INTERVIEW  69 

mind's  advance,  and  we  see  that  just  because  of  this 
very  smoothness  we  have  missed  very,  very  much. 

"  Was  it  possible,"  she  thought,  "  that  if  she  had 
fully  understood  what  his  exile  was,  she  could  have 
helped  him  to  bear  it  better?"  The  thought  was 
painful,  she  could  not  answer  it.  Had  she  indeed  be- 
come so  self-absorbed,  or  rather  so  absorbed  in  the 
petty  details  of  daily  life,  details  which  already  seemed 
to  her  rather  sordid,  that  she  had  never  more  than 
touched  the  outer  fringe  of  the  lives  of  those  around 
her?  What  had  she  herself  to  show  for  the  years 
that  were  past?  Had  her  love  for  her  fellows  grown 
stronger  ?  Had  her  sympathy  grown  keener  ?  And 
to  these  questions  the  answer  came,  "  No  !  " 

She  was  perfectly  honest  with  herself.  Even  a 
little  unjust,  it  may  be,  but  that  was  natural  to  a 
woman  of  her  temperament.  "  But  now,"  she  told 
herself,  "  Henry's  chance  had  come,  perhaps  hers  too. 
Long  delayed,  it  was  true,  but  surely  not  too  late." 

They  sat  on  in  the  quiet  room  for  a  long  time,  each 
absorbed  in  their  own  thoughts.  At  last  Sir  Henry 
roused  himself,  and  picked  up  the  newspaper  from 
the  floor,  where  it  had  fallen  unheeded.  He  rose 
from  his  chair,  preparatory  to  leaving  the  room. 

"  But  now,"  he  said  earnestly,  as  if  in  continuation 
of  his  previous  words,  "  I  can  make  up  for  lost  time." 


CHAPTER  VII 

TWO  GIRLS  AND  A  DOG 

"  He  is  a  good  dog,  and  a  fair  dog, 
Can  there  more  be  said  ?  " 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

THERE  was  a  sound  of  carriage  wheels  upon  the 
gravel,  the  hall  door  was  flung  open  by  Turner  and 
his  satellite,  and  Eleanor  moved  quickly  forward  to 
greet  the  young  arrivals. 

As  they  entered  the  house,  Mildred  put  her  arm 
protectingly  round  her  sister,  and  they  walked  the 
few  steps  into  the  warm  comfort  of  the  hall.  It  was 
evident  that  their  composure  was  entirely  on  the 
surface. 

The  older  girl  held  her  head  erect,  while  her  e}7es 
had  an  alert,  almost  defiant  expression,  as  if  she  had 
prepared  herself  to  meet  any  further  buffets  Fate 
might  have  in  store.  The  younger  advanced  unwill- 
ingly, with  her  eyes  lowered,  as  if  all  her  inclination 
prompted  her  to  retreat. 

Eleanor  was  truly  sorry  for  the  two  poor  little  souls ; 
she  kissed  them  both  kindly,  and  could  feel  them 
trembling  as  she  did  so.  She  knew  they  must  be  very 
tired,  and  not  a  little  nervous,  and  felt  anxious  to  say 

70 


TWO   GIKLS  AND  A   DOG  71 

or  do  something  to  put  them  at  their  ease,  but  the 
strength  of  her  desire  to  comfort  them  only  seemed 
to  drive  all  the  kind  words  she  had  meant  to  say 
away  from  her  lips.  After  a  short  pause,  which 
seemed  to  her  to  be  of  endless  duration,  she  said :  — 

"  You  are  very  welcome.  Come  close  to  the  fire, 
and  get  warm.  I  am  sure  you  must  want  your  tea." 

She  could  have  shaken  herself  for  the  utter  banal- 
ity of  these  remarks,  but  anything  more  hearty 
seemed  perfectly  impossible  to  her  in  the  shyness 
which  overwhelmed  them,  all  three.  So  she  busied 
herself  in  helping  them  to  unfasten  their  wraps,  draw- 
ing them  nearer  to  the  cheerful  hearth  as  she  did  so. 
Suddenly,  she  felt  a  movement  almost  under  her  feet, 
and  nearly  tripped  over  something. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  rather  startled. 

"  It  is  Alphonse  Daudet,"  said  Joan,  speaking  for 
the  first  time.  "  He  is  so  dreadfully  cold  and  miser- 
able." 

The  child  spoke  with  tears  in  her  voice,  as  if  she 
thoroughly  endorsed  the  opinion,  and  before  Eleanor 
could  reply,  a  small,  shivering  grey  poodle  crept  from 
the  shelter  of  his  mistress  to  the  warmth  of  the 
hearth,  where  he  crouched  in  a  dejected  attitude. 

"  He  is  really  quite  quiet  and  good,"  said  Mildred. 
"  I  hope  you  do  not  mind  him.  We  have  had  him  a 
long  time,  and  he  is  never  any  trouble.  We  could 
not  bear  to  leave  him  behind." 


72  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Eleanor,  stoutly.  "I  am 
sure  you  are  very  fond  of  him." 

In  her  heart  she  was  wondering  how  her  husband 
would  receive  this  unexpected  addition  to  his  house- 
hold. Two  girls  and  a  dog  was  certainly  trying  him 
rather  high.  Would  it  be  possible  to  suggest  a  com- 
fortable lodging  in  the  stables,  she  thought?  But 
she  did  not  mention  it,  she  really  did  not  dare,  for  as 
she  looked  at  Joan,  she  saw  that  the  child  was  crouch- 
ing on  the  floor  beside  the  dog,  as  if  she  feared  some 
such  suggestion  might  be  made,  and  her  lip  was  quiv- 
ering, as  if  she  were  on  the  point  of  bursting  into 
tears. 

Eleanor  felt  quite  distracted.  What  was  to  be 
done  ?  Anything  was  better  than  that  catastrophe ; 
but  oh !  if  only  the  solid  hearthstone  would  open  and 
swallow  the  dejected  Alphonse  Daudet,  before  the 
master  of  the  house  caught  sight  of  him ! 

At  that  moment  the  library  door  opened,  and  Sir 
Henry  walked  towards  them. 

"  So  you  have  arrived,"  he  said,  in  his  usual  quiet 
tones.  "  I  hope  you  have  had  a  good  journey,  and 
are  not  very  cold." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  the  girls,  speaking  together. 
Then  Mildred  added  shyly,  "  It  is  very  good  of  you 
to  let  us  come." 

They  sat  down  again ;  this  time  Joan  was  sitting  on 
the  sofa  beside  her  sister.  Sir  Henry  drank  his  tea, 


TWO   GIKLS  AND  A  DOG  73 

and  chatted  easily,  asking  questions  about  their 
changes,  and  so  forth,  and  Eleanor  breathed  more 
freely  for  a  while.  Evidently  the  unwelcome  guest 
was  not  going  to  make  himself  obtrusive ;  perhaps  he 
might  even  escape  notice. 

"  Have  you  been  used  to  the  country  ?"  she  asked. 
"  If  you  are  fond  of  animals,  there  are  plenty  here  to 
amuse  you.  There  is  a  charming  family  of  kittens 
in  the  stables ;  I  saw  them  this  morning.  You  must 
have  a  good  look  round  to-morrow."  t 

"  There  is  a  pony  too,  isn't  there,  Eleanor  ?  "  asked 
Sir  Henry.  "  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  quiet  enough  for 
them  to  drive,  if  they  care  to  do  so." 

Just  then  Eleanor  chanced  to  look  up,  and  for  a 
moment  she  held  her  breath.  There,  in  the  middle 
of  the  hearthrug,  within  two  feet  of  Sir  Henry,  sitting 
bolt  upright,  was  Alphonse  Daudet.  The  warmth 
and  the  alluring  scent  of  muffins  had  evidently  re- 
stored his  lost  courage,  and  he  was  doing  his  level 
best  to  show  off  his  company  manners.  Over  his  left 
eye  hung  rakishly  a  bedraggled  black  bow,  which 
tied  up  his  topknot,  and  his  long  silky  ears  depended 
in  Early  Victorian  ringlets  on  either  side  of  his  im- 
pudent little  face.  The  eye  that  was  not  obscured  by 
the  sign  of  mourning  was  fixed  on  Sir  Henry,  and 
gleamed  with  piteous  entreaty.  His  small,  clammy 
black  nose  twitched  with  agonized  longing.  The 
mixture  of  dejection  and  hope  which  was  plainly 


74  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

written  in  his  whole  appearance  was  inexpressibly 
ludicrous. 

Sir  Henry  stooped  forward  as  if  unable  to  classify 
the  weird  object  which  met  his  gaze,  and  in  response, 
Alphonse  beat  the  air  with  a  convulsive  movement 
of  his  forepaws.  No  one  spoke.  The  moment  was 
all-important.  Grave  issues  were  at  stake.  The  fate 
of  Alphonse  Daudet  hung  in  the  balance. 

Eleanor  did  not  dare  to  move.  Then  Sir  Henry 
with  great  deliberation  broke  off  a  piece  of  his  bread 
and  butter,  and  laid  it  with  infinite  gentleness  on  the 
tip  of  the  twitching  little  black  nose.  Another 
moment,  and  the  tempting  morsel  had  been  tossed 
high,  caught,  and  had  disappeared  from  view.  Sir 
Henry  burst  out  laughing.  A  hearty  laugh,  which 
quite  startled  Eleanor,  for  even  as  they  all  joined  in 
it,  she  realized  that  it  was  the  first  she  had  ever  heard 
from  her  husband. 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  he  asked,  and  on  being  told, 
said  gravely  that  he  trusted  that  its  owner  would 
live  up  to  his  high-sounding  patronymic. 

Emboldened  by  the  manner  in  which  her  pet  had 
been  received,  Joan  crept  forward  to  Sir  Henry's  side, 
and  kneeling  beside  him  urged  Alphonse  to  give  an 
exhibition  of  his  talents.  He  died,  he  came  to  life 
again  at  the  magic  word  "  Policeman."  He  danced, 
he  sneezed,  he  said  "  Please,"  only  pausing  between 
each  item  of  his  programme  to  swallow  tempting 


TWO  GIELS  AND  A  DOG  75 

morsels  with  the  rapidity  of  a  machine  and  the  pre- 
cision of  a  letter-box,  and,  finally,  he  hurled  himself 
against  Sir  Henry's  knees,  and  bowed  his  head  be- 
tween his  forepaws,  in  an  attitude  of  silent  prayer. 

Then,  after  a  slight  pause,  he  stretched  himself  on 
the  rug,  his  pink  tongue  lolling  out,  his  tail  wagging 
deliriously,  and  his  breath  coming  in  quick,  ecstatic 
pants.  He  was  overcome  with  the  success  of  his 
entertainment,  the  very  picture  of  satisfied  joy. 

When  recalling  the  scene,  Eleanor  felt  as  if  nothing 
could  be  too  great  a  reward  for  Monsieur  Daudet,  for 
the  way  in  which  he  had  saved  the  situation.  It  was 
impossible  for  any  one  to  feel  stiff  or  shy  after  they 
had  laughed  so  heartily  at  the  antics  of  this  colossal 
jester,  and  the  jester  himself  was  only  too  aware  that  his 
had  been  the  triumph  and  his  alone  was  all  the  glory. 
And  there  was  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  Sir  Henry 
had  been  thoroughly  entertained.  He  had  praised 
and  caressed  and  rewarded,  all  to  Joan's  huge  delight. 

"  Where  did  you  get  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Jim  gave  him  to  me;  he  said  he  had  a  very  good 
character  from  his  last  situation,  and  followed  like  an 
unpaid  bill.  I  don't  quite  know  what  he  meant, 
but  then  I  don't  sometimes  know  what  Jim  does  mean. 
But  Alphonse  always  is  good,  except  when  he  has  an 
attack  of  mental  abrasion." 

"  Really  !  "  said  Sir  Henry.     "  You  don't  say  so  !  " 

"Yes,"  said  Joan,  confidentially;  "he  goes  off  his 


76  TKEVOE  LOKDSHIP 

chump,  you  know.  Just  races  round  and  round  and 
round,  until  he  feels  better,  and  then  he  sits  down." 

"  Joany  !  "  expostulated  Mildred,  "  Sir  Henry  won't 
like  that  dreadful  slang." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  find  it  most  interesting,"  he 
said,  smiling.  "  But  who  is  Jim  ?" 

"  Oh  !  Jim  is  —  Jim  !  "  answered  the  child,  as  if  that 
explained  everything.  Then  she  added,  "  His  mother 
is  Mrs.  Lucas,  and  he  is  a  great  friend  of  mine." 

"  Mr.  Locke  told  us  about  Mrs.  Lucas,"  said  Eleanor; 
"  so  I  have  heard  of  her." 

"  The  Lucases  have  been  very  kind  to  us,"  explained 
Mildred;  "we  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  them,  and 
Jim  has  always  been  most  awfully  fond  of  Joan." 

"  Did  you  teach  Monsieur  Daudet  all  these  tricks 
yourself ,  Joan  ?"  asked  Sir  Henry. 

"  Oh,  no,  Jim  taught  him.  Isn't  he  clever  ?  Do 
you  know,  he  lived  in  a  very  grand  house  before  he 
came  to  us,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  would 
even  walk  up  and  down  stairs,  and  he  never  would 
walk  in  the  street  for  a  long  time.  He  sat  down  and 
barked  for  the  footman  to  carry  him  up  to  bed  at 
night.  We  hadn't  got  a  footman,  you  know,  only  a 
boot  boy,  and  Alphonse  turned  up  his  nose  at  him. 
One  day  when  we  were  out  walking,  we  passed  a 
grand  carriage  and  pair,  standing  in  front  of  a  house, 
and  he  jumped  in  and  hopped  up  on  to  the  front  seat, 
as  much  as  to  say,  'At  last  I  am  in  my  proper  place.' 


77 

It  really  was  very  funny,  but  the  old  gentleman  only 
laughed.  Do  you  think  you  could  shave  him  for  us  ?  " 

"Shave  him?"  repeated  Sir  Henry,  rather  help- 
lessly. 

"  Yes/'  continued  the  child ;  "  I  have  brought  his 
clippers.  You  see  —  Jim  used  to  shave  him  for  me" 
—  her  voice  faltered  for  a  moment,  then  she  went  on 
bravely ;  "  but  now  Jim  isn't  here,  and  I  don't  think  I 
could  quite  do  it  myself.  You  see,  his  bare  part  is 
quite  easy,  but  you  must  be  careful  to  leave  his  what- 
nots the  right  shape." 

"  His  whatnots !  "  repeated  Sir  Henry.  He  seemed 
to  be  quite  at  sea. 

"  Yes ;  these  little  tufts  on  his  back  are  his  what- 
nots. But  if  you  would  rather  not,"  Joan  said 
politely, "  I  expect  I  can  manage  them  all  right." 

Eleanor  felt  it  was  time  to  corne  to  her  husband's 
rescue ! 

"We  will  consult  Dobbs  to-morrow,"  she  said. 
"  Dobbs  is  the  coachman,  and  I  daresay  we  shall  find 
that  he  knows  all  about  it." 

"  An  excellent  idea,"  said  Sir  Henry,  much  relieved. 
The  shape  of  the  whatnots  had  evidently  been  more 
than  he  felt  equal  to  undertaking. 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  wall  ask  Dobbs ;  that  will  be  much  bet- 
ter," said  Joan.  Then  she  added,  "  You  won't  mind 
his  sleeping  in  my  room?  I  have  brought  his 
blanket,  and  he  very  seldom  snores.  You  see,  I  take 


78  TKEVOE  LOKDSHIP 

my  hair-brush,  to  bed  with  me,  and  throw  it  at  him  if  he 
does,  which  is  quite  a  good  plan,  except  when  I  lie  on 
it  by  mistake." 

She  looked  anxiously  at  Sir  Henry,  awaiting  his 
reply. 

"I  don't  think  there  can  be  any  objection  to  that, 
can  there,  Eleanor  ? "  he  asked,  smiling.  "  It  is 
possible  that  the  hair-brush  might  make  more  noise 
than  Alphonse  Daudet,  but  we  must  hope  for  the 
best." 

"  I  expect  he  will  sleep  soundly  to-night,  after  his 
journey,"  said  Eleanor.  "  And  to-morrow  he  can  see 
how  he  likes  country  life.  Now  you  had  better  come 
upstairs,  and  see  your  rooms." 

And  so,  thanks  in  no  small  measure  to  Alphonse 
Daudet,  the  ice  was  broken,  and  in  a  very  few  days 
the  three  settled  happily  into  their  new  life  at  '  Trevor 
Lordship/  On  the  day  after  their  arrival,  Eleanor 
had  a  long  talk  with  the  girls,  and  told  them  quite 
plainly  that  there  was  only  one  thing  that  they 
might  not  do,  and  that  was,  disturb  Sir  Henry.  His 
library  was  a  sacred  spot,  on  no  account  to  be  entered 
except  in  the  unlikely  event  of  their  receiving  an 
invitation  to  do  so.  They  both  at  once  promised  to 
remember  this  rule,  and  Eleanor  felt  satisfied  that  the 
matter  was  settled,  once  and  for  all. 

As  she  had  prophesied,  their  presence  made  very 
little  difference  to  the  master  of  the  house,  and  he 


TWO   GIRLS  AND  A  DOG  79 

seemed  to  enjoy  their  company  when  he  saw  them, 
which  was  seldom,  except  at  meals. 

Mildred  was  rather  shy  of  him  at  first,  but  little 
Joan  seemed  to  consider  that  after  his  reception  of 
her  pet,  they  were  sworn  allies.  Joan  was  altogether 
a  friendly  little  person,  and  was  soon  on  the  best  of 
terms  with  every  one,  including  Dobbs,  to  whom,  the 
question  of  the  whatnots  did  not  seem  to  present  the 
same  difficulty  as  to  Sir  Henry.  The  child  had  seen 
very  little  real  country,  and  her  days  were  spent  in 
ecstatic  raptures  over  every  animal  on  the  place. 

On  their  first  Sunday,  Eleanor  noticed  with  some 
amusement  that  on  coming  out  of  church,  Joan  ran 
up  to  Sir  Henry,  and,  taking  his  hand  in  her  confi- 
dential, childish  way,  announced  that  she  was  going 
to  walk  home  with  him.  This  she  did,  chattering 
gaily  all  the  time. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Joan  said  contentedly: 

"  I  have  settled  it  all.  He's  going  to  be  our 
uncle.  It  has  been  rather  difficult,  because  I  do 
think  Sir  Henry"  (she  pronounced  it  Senery,  all  in 
one  word),  "sounds  like  a  vegetable,  don't  you?  and 
Mildred  said  it  was  rude  to  say  '  him '  all  the  time, 
but  now  he's  our  uncle  it  makes  it  quite  right,  and 
you'll  be  our  aunt  too,  won't  you  ?  That  will  be 
quite  comfy." 

Eleanor  and  Mildred  laughed,  and  agreed  it  was  a 
very  good  idea. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FRESH  FIELDS  AND  PASTURES  NEW 
"  Such  stuff  the  world  is  made  of." 

—  COWPBR. 

Miss  PRICE'S  words,  "You  may  see  many  things 
that  surprise  you,"  returned  to  Eleanor's  mind  very 
forcibly  when  she  first  saw  her  husband's  relations ; 
and  the  person  who  occasioned  her  most  surprise  was 
her  sister-in-law,  Minnie  Ross.  She  had  not  unnat- 
urally expected  to  find  her  a  woman  of  her  own  age 
and  standing,  and  had  been  almost  speechless  with 
astonishment  when  Mrs.  Trevor  arrived,  accompanied 
by  some  one  who,  at  the  first  glance,  looked  about 
three  and  twenty. 

Even  among  her  own  friends,  Minnie  (every  one 
called  her  Minnie)  was  pointed  out  as  being  an  ex- 
traordinarily young-looking  woman,  and  with  reason. 
She  was  altogether  of  a  type  with  which  Eleanor 
was  unacquainted,  a  modern  of  the  moderns,  and  if 
that  odious  term  "  smart "  was  deserved  by  any  one,  it 
was  richly  deserved  by  Minnie.  She  was  "  smart " 
to  her  carefully  manicured  finger-tips !  How  she 
would  have  loved  to  hear  you  say  so !  Nothing 
could  have  pleased  her  more.  After  all,  it  is  some- 

80 


81 

thing  to  attain  the  summit  of  your  ambitions,  even  if 
that  summit  isn't  very  exalted.  It  is  the  position 
that  brings  the  satisfaction,  not  the  altitude.  Her 
friends  were  in  the  habit  of  saying,  "  Jolly  little  sort, 
Minnie ;  very  smart  indeed,  but  no  harm  in  Minnie, 
oh,  dear,  no  !  " 

She  was  charmingly  pretty,  petite  and  vivacious, 
with  a  mass  of  soft  brown  hair  which  fluffed  when 
fluffs  were  the  thing,  and  rippled  when  the  wave  of 
fashion  broke  into  ripples.  She  changed  her  style  of 
hair-dressing  about  as  often  as  she  did  the  cut  of  her 
skirt,  and  somehow  each  change  became  her  better 
than  the  one  before.  She  knew  well  enough  that  if 
the  "  habit  makes  the  monk,"  clothes  make  a  smart 
woman,  and,  being  really  an  artist  in  her  own  line, 
the  clothes'  line,  was  always  perfectly  turned  out. 
Above  all,  she  was  thoroughly  aware  of  her  own  attrac- 
tiveness, and  used  the  knowledge  as  a  skilful  fencer 
uses  his  foil. 

It  was  rather  surprising  that  this,  being  the  case, 
she  was  so  popular ;  but  even  women  liked  Minnie, 
and  forgave  her  for  cutting  them  out.  She  was  so 
childishly  pleased  with  herself,  and  so  willing  to  let 
other  people  do  as  they  liked,  provided  she  might  do 
the  same.  She  never  said  spiteful  things,  and  was 
thoroughly  good-natured ;  the  truth  being  that  she 
was  far  too  much  wrapped  up  in  her  frivolous  little 
self,  and  her  frivolous  little  affairs,  to  have  any  time 


82  TKEVOK  LORDSHIP 

to  spare  for  the  business  of  her  neighbours.  So  easily 
is  a  reputation  for  good  nature  won,  in  a  world  where 
you  may  be  forgiven  for  being  a  kitten,  but  never  for 
being  a  cat ! 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  if  there  was  any  one  who  was 
placed  in  Minnie's  affections  besides  Minnie  herself, 
it  was  her  own  husband,  but  he  came  in  such  a  bad 
second  as  to  be  almost  out  of  the  running. 

Hugh  Ross  was  at  this  time  stationed  in  India,  a 
country  which  his  wife  associated  with  Black  Holes 
and  lost  complexions,  and  classed  as  "impossible." 
There  was  a  pleasant  understanding  that  she  was  on 
a  visit  to  her  mother,  until  she  should  join  her  hus- 
band, but  she  never  for  a  moment  intended  doing  so. 
It  was  really  more  than  any  man  could  expect.  And 
if  sometimes  in  the  back  of  her  mind  she  wished  he 
were  not  so  far  away,  the  wish  was  prompted  more 
by  the  feeling  that  it  was  useful  to  have  a  man  be- 
longing to  you,  than  by  any  desire  for  him,  Hugh 
Ross,  in  person,  and  this  only  happened  when  she 
was  bored,  which  wasn't  often.  She  took  very  good 
care  not  to  be,  and  on  the  whole  succeeded  remark- 
ably well. 

Mrs.  Trevor  adored  her,  and  allowed  her  to  do  any- 
thing she  liked,  which  was  perhaps  wise,  as  it  is  very 
doubtful  if  any  other  course  would  have  been  practi- 
cable. It  may  be  that  the  old  lady  was  shrewd  enough 
to  know  this,  for  while  presenting  a  stern  and  un- 


FRESH   FIELDS  AND  PASTURES  NEW          83 

bending  front  to  all  the  world,  and  frowning  porten- 
tously on  its  every  foible,  she  was  all  smiles  and 
yielding  affection  to  her  only  daughter. 

In  conversation  with  her  friends  she  always  alluded 
to  Minnie's  approaching  departure  for  India,  saying, 
"  A  wife's  place  is  with  her  husband,  of  course,  and 
dear  Minnie  will  do  what  is  right,  but  it  will  be 
a  terrible  wrench,  etc.,  etc."  But  this  highly  moral 
statement  was  wearing  so  thin  as  to  allow  her  audi- 
tors to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  truth,  which  was,  that 
the  old  lady  assisted  to  paint  the  picture  of  the  burn- 
ing East  in  lurid  colours,  having  not  the  slightest 
intention  of  parting  with  Minnie  if  she  could  help 
it. 

It  was  in  accordance  with  her  rule  never  to  be 
bored,  that  Minnie  had,  with  admirable  forethought, 
arranged  for  her  own  amusement  during  her  stay  at 
'  Trevor  Lordship.'  She  was  curious  to  see  her  brother 
and  his  wife  in  their  new  home,  but  from  what  she 
had  seen  of  Henry  in  London,  it  seemed  highly  prob- 
able that  the  visit  would  be  extremely  dull,  and  being 
wise  in  her  generation,  she  had  provided  herself  with 
an  antidote,  in  the  shape  of  a  certain  Mr.  Vane- 
Talbert,  familiarly  known  as  Toby. 

On  the  morning  of  her  arrival,  Sir  Henry  had  been 
surprised  to  receive  a  telegram  from  her,  saying, 
"  Bringing  Toby  Vane-Talbert,  do  give  him  a  shoot." 
Who  Toby  Vane-Talbert  was,  neither  Sir  Henry  nor 


84  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Eleanor  had  the  vaguest  idea,  but  in  any  case  it  was 
too  late  for  a  return  telegram. 

Minnie  explained  him  to  Eleanor  later,  in  her  usual 
airy  way. 

"  He  knows  every  one,  you  know,  and  goes  every- 
where, and  is  always  so  nice  and  useful.  His  father 
was  Lord  Philip  Vane-Talbert,  you  know.  Toby  was 
in  the  House  for  a  bit,  but  he  chucked  it.  He  lost 
his  wife  about  two  years  ago,  poor  thing.  He  really 
is  a  dear  boy." 

The  term  seemed  to  Eleanor  a  little  inappropriate,  as 
she  thought  Mr.  Vane-T albert' s  farewell  to  his  boy- 
hood must  have  been  said  some  years  ago;  but  it  was 
difficult  to  fix  his  age,  he  might  have  been  anything 
between  eight  and  twenty  and  eight  and  forty.  He 
was  small  and  spare,  and  very  neat, — neat  black  hair, 
neat  black  moustache,  neat  clothes,  neat  movements. 
His  manners  were  charming,  very  charming ;  it  was 
his  particular  role  to  be  all  things  to  all  women,  and 
to  speak  to  each  as  if  she  alone  were  his  bright  par- 
ticular star;  they  liked  it,  and  it  might  mean  any- 
thing or  nothing. 

The  only  other  guest  was  Roger  Bolding,  a  bachelor 
squire,  who  lived  in  a  house  called  Haines  Hall,  about 
eight  miles  from  '  Trevor  Lordship.'  His  elder  brother, 
since  dead,  had  been  a  Cambridge  friend  of  Henry 
Trevor's,  and  on  hearing  of  his  coming  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood Bolding  had  hastened  to  be  friendly,  at  first 
for  his  brother's  sake,  and  later  for  his  own. 


FRESH  FIELDS  AND  PASTURES  NEW         85 

He  was  a  tall  man  of  about  five  and  thirty,  with 
good,  clear-cut  features;  his  clean-shaven  face  was 
exactly  the  type  of  the  "  bloods  "  of  Beau  Brummel's 
time,  and  looked  as  if  he  ought  to  wear  ruffles  and 
powdered  hair ;  strong,  energetic,  and  resourceful,  far 
quicker  than  his  rather  heavy  build  led  one  to  suppose. 
He  was  about  the  best  known  man  in  the  county,  and 
about  the  most  popular,  for  he  was  a  thorough  sports- 
man and  a  first-rate  rider.  In  addition  to  these 
qualifications,  he  was  possessed  of  that  cheery,  cordial 
manner  which  goes  such  a  long  way  in  winning  the 
friendship  of  rich  and  poor  alike. 

As  Eleanor  sat  at  the  head  of  her  table  on  the  first 
evening,  she  felt  as  if  she  were  watching  some  very 
entertaining  play.  Up  to  the  present  time,  dinner 
had  been  a  very  quiet  meal,  although  conducted  with 
a  good  deal  of  pomp  by  Mr.  Turner,  who  had  his  own 
opinion  as  to  how  "  things  should  be  done."  Since 
Mildred's  arrival,  the  order  of  things  had  been  a  little 
more  cheerful,  but  to-night  was  a  new  departure.  She 
looked  round  the  table,  with  its  load  of  beautiful  old  sil- 
ver and  glass,  its  vases  of  hothouse  flowers,  and  the  note 
of  comfort,  almost  amounting  to  luxury,  appealed  to 
her  as  something  novel  and  very  pleasant.  She  was 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  hundred  and  one  slang  terms 
which  are  in  everyday  use  in  certain  circles,  and 
sometimes  found  it  quite  difficult  to  understand  the 
meaning  they  were  intended  to  convey,  but  she  noticed 


86  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

that  Mildred  and  Roger  Holding,  and  even  Captain 
Maitland,  seemed  to  find  it  quite  natural. 

Minnie  and  Mr.  Bolding  had  met  before,  and  had 
mutual  friends,  and  as  the  party  was  small  enough  to 
admit  of  general  conversation,  the  ball  of  small-talk 
was  kept  rolling  merrily  enough.  Eleanor  was  study- 
ing her  sister-in-law  in  admiration  and  bewilderment. 
Was  it  possible  that  that  beautiful  girl,  for  she  looked 
little  more  in  the  subdued  light  of  the  shaded  candles, 
could  be  within  two  years  of  her  own  age  ? 

Minnie  had  glided  down  to  dinner,  rather  late, — 
she  was  thoroughly  aware  how  effective  it  is  to  time 
your  entry  so  that  all  may  be  assembled  to  admire,  — 
in  a  shimmering  gown  of  white  and  silver,  with  a 
diaphanous  scarf  draped  over  her  shoulders,  as  was 
the  fashion  of  the  moment.  A  rope  of  pearls  hung 
round  her  neck,  and  a  large  diamond  crescent  was 
perched  in  her  fluffy  hair.  Fluffs  were  the  thing  just 
then !  She  really  made  a  charming  picture,  and  knew 
it,  and  now  there  she  was,  sitting  between  Roger 
Bolding  and  Captain  Maitland,  chattering  and  laugh- 
ing with  all  the  spirit  of  a  girl  of  sixteen.  Mildred 
Trevor  was  pretty,  in  a  fresh,  girlish  way,  but  un- 
doubtedly to-night,  in  her  black  frock,  she  only 
served  as  a  foil  to  the  glitter  of  this  white  and 
silver  butterfly. 

If  Eleanor's  surprise  at  her  sister-in-law's  appear- 
ance had  been  great,  it  was  equally  a  fact  that  Mrs. 


FRESH  FIELDS  AND  PASTURES  NEW         87 

Trevor  and  Minnie  felt  the  same,  so  far  as  she  was 
concerned.  Mrs.  Trevor  had  become  thoroughly  im- 
bued with  the  idea  that  her  son  was  making  a  mis- 
alliance in  marrying  a  woman  whom  no  one  had  ever 
heard  of,  and  Minnie  shared  this  opinion.  They  both 
felt  that  nobody  could  be  anybody  who  did  not  spend 
at  least  three  months  of  the  year  within  the  limits  of 
Belgravia  or  Mayfair.  However,  this  conviction  was 
destined  to  be  rudely  shaken. 

Mrs.  Trevor,  as  she  made  somewhat  laboured  con- 
versation with  her  son  and  host,  raised  her  lorgnettes 
more  than  once  to  fix  a  direct  and  scrutinizing  glance 
on  her  new  daughter-in-law,  and  before  dinner  was 
over  she  was  forced  to  admit  that,  so  far  as  she  could 
see,  Eleanor  as  hostess  left  very  little  to  be  desired. 

She  had  come  prepared  to  cavil,  but  so  far  had 
found  nothing  to  cavil  at,  and  was  consequently  feel- 
ing a  little  disappointed.  She  had  been  met  at  the  sta- 
tion by  a  comfortable  carriage,  she  had  been  received 
with  due  ceremony,  as  became  her  importance,  her 
room  was  well  arranged,  and  now  she  was  enjoying, 
yes  !  positively  enjoying,  an  excellent  dinner.  If  her 
host's  conversation  was  a  little  uninteresting,  well ! 
after  all,  he  was  her  own  son,  and  the  woman  was 
handsome  !  positively  handsome  ! 

Old  Miss  Price  would  have  rubbed  her  hands  to- 
gether, as  was  her  wont  when  pleased,  if  she  had 
been  there  to  see,  and  indeed,  the  friends  of  Eleanor's 


88  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

early  womanhood  would  hardly  have  recognized  her 
this  evening.  She  was  dressed  in  a  simple,  well-made 
gown  of  black  velvet,  relieved  with  a  berthe  of  old 
lace  which  had  belonged  to  her  mother.  She  wore 
no  jewels,  but  her  neck  and  shoulders  were  beauti- 
fully moulded,  and  her  dress  accentuated  their  ivory 
whiteness.  Her  hair  was  no  longer  drawn  tightly 
back  from  her  forehead,  but  arranged  in  a  heavy 
coil  like  a  diadem  on  the  top  of  her  head,  by  the 
hands  of  her  maid,  —  a  young  woman,  it  would  appear, 
who  thoroughly  knew  her  business. 

The  quiet  happiness  of  the  months  of  her  married 
life  had  restored  the  colour  to  her  cheeks  and 
smoothed  the  tired  lines  from  her  face.  Her  ex- 
pression was  gentle  still,  but  far  more  animated  than 
before.  Oh,  yes !  Miss  Price  would  have  been  quite 
satisfied. 

"  I  hear  Willie  Gould  is  broke.  Is  it  true  ?  "  asked 
Bolding. 

"  Quite  true,"  said  Minnie,  cheerfully.  "  Liabili- 
ties four  thousand,  and  assets  one  pound  !  " 

"  Good  fellow,  Willie,"  said  Vane-Talbert.  "  Plucky 
chap,  you  know !  I  met  him  in  Piccadilly  yesterday, 
and  said  I  was  awfully  sorry  to  hear  he  had  had  such 
rotten  luck.  But  he  laughed,  and  said,  'My  dear 
chap,  the  only  rotten  luck  about  it  is  their  finding 
that  sovereign !  If  I'd  found  it,  I  shouldn't  have 
gone.'  " 


FRESH  FIELDS   AND  PASTURES   NEW         89 

"  Courage  worthy  of  a  better  cause,"  said  Bolding. 
"  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  Oh !  he's  still  in  his  rooms  in  Jermyn  Street. 
Wish  I  could  get  hold  of  that  valet  of  his.  An  in- 
valuable chap;  gets  no  wages,  and  goes  out  waiting 
when  times  are  bad,  so  I've  always  heard.  One  thing 
you  may  be  certain  of  is  that  Willie  will  come  up 
smiling." 

"  He  will  come  into  some  money  by  and  by,"  said 
Minnie.  "  He's  got  an  old  aunt  who  sends  him  tracts 
and  a  knitted  waistcoat  at  Christmas." 

"Wish  I'd  got  an  old  aunt.  I'd  wind  wool,  or 
push  a  bath-chair  for  any  old  lady  who'd  assure  my 
future." 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Toby,"  laughed  Minnie.  "  You 
can  take  to  giving  Bridge  lessons  at  <£5  an  afternoon. 
Lilly  Carey  has  got  a  man  to  teach  her.  She  says 
he's  too  lovely,  and  that  his  conversation  is  cheap  at 
the  price." 

"  I  don't  fancy  his  job,"  he  said  lightly.  "  Half  an 
hour  of  Lilly  Carey  is  as  much  as  I  can  do  with." 

"  Why  not  turn  chauffeur,"  said  Mildred.  "  It's 
ripping  work,  I  believe,  and  very  good  pay." 

"  Topping  !  I'll  ply  for  hire  when  I  get  my  new 
car.  It  ought  to  be  a  flier." 

"  A  new  motor  sounds  a  long  way  from  bankruptcy, 
Mr.  Vane-Talbert,"  said  Eleanor,  smiling. 

"  On  the  contrary,  Lady  Trevor,"  he  replied  quickly. 


90  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  the  one  leads  to  the  other,  and  they  are  intimately 
connected.  The  other  day  some  one  asked  what  had 
been  the  most  fashionable  things  this  year,  and  was 
told,  Motors  and  Mortgages.  Every  one  has  one  or 
the  other,  and  some  people  both." 

"  I  wish  yours  would  come,  Toby,"  said  Minnie. 
"  I  want  you  to  teach  me  how  to  drive  it." 

"  You  wouldn't  like  it,"  he  returned.  "You  mustn't 
talk  when  you're  learning  to  drive.  Look  at  Lord 
Cawston.  Took  his  best  girl  for  a  drive  the  other  day, 
and  took  her  clean  into  the  river,  down  by  Datchett. 
She  hasn't  spoken  to  him  since." 

"How  pleased  Lady  Cawston  must  have  been," 
laughed  Minnie. 

"  She  was  !  She  said  she  would  never  prevent  his 
taking  any  of  his  charmers  out  again." 

"Have  you  got  the  Bridge  fever,  Lady  Trevor?" 
continued  Yane-Talbert. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  play  Bridge,  if  that  is 
what  you  mean,  but  I  should  not  think  there  would 
be  any  difficulty  in  learning,  for  I  have  played  Whist 
all  my  life,  and  very  strict  Whist,  too." 

"  You'll  have  to  learn,"  said  Minnie.  "  You  have 
to  play  now  if  you  want  to  go  anywhere  at  all.  If 
you  can't  play,  you're  out  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Vane-Taibert,  "  and  if  you  can  play, 
play  well,  I  mean,  it  doesn't  matter  who  you  are,  you 
get  asked  everywhere.  I  met  a  most  weird  lady  at 


FEESH  FIELDS  AND  PASTUEES  NEW         91 

Mrs.  Tommy  Deacon's  the  other  day,  the  sort  of  old 
thing  Mrs.  Tommy  wouldn't  have  looked  at  a  year  ago. 
And  when  I  asked  who  she  was,  I  was  told  in  an  awed 
whisper  that  she  was  the  best  Bridge  player  in  London, 
and  that  people  were  wild  to  get  her.  Mrs.  Tommy 
seemed  very  cock-a-hoop  at  having  caught  her." 

"  In  fact,  the  Bridge  that  spans  the  social  gulf," 
said  Bolding. 

"  And  takes  you  over  the  river  of  boredom,"  added 
Minnie.  "  Think  of  those  awful  hours  one  used  to 
spend  after  dinner  in  country  houses,  the  men  half 
asleep  and  wholly  dull,  and  the  women  snappy. 
Now  you  play  Bridge,  and  every  one  is  pleased." 

"  Except  those  who  don't  play,"  suggested  Eleanor. 

"  Oh!  we  all  play,"  said  Minnie,  lightly.  " I  went 
down  to  stay  at  Oversham  for  the  hunt  ball,  and 
after  tea  some  one  suggested  Bridge,  so  we  made  up 
five  tables,  and  started.  The  next  thing  was,  that 
the  butler  came  in  to  ask  if  we  would  like  supper. 
It  was  eleven  o'clock,  and  too  late  for  the  ball.  We 
had  supper,  and  played  until  3.30." 

"  I  should  have  been  asleep,"  said  Eleanor. 

"  I  should  have  been  too  hungry  to  sleep,"  laughed 
Mildred.  "  I  should  have  been  screaming  for  a  mut- 
ton chop." 

When  the  ladies  reached  the  drawing-room,  Mrs. 
Trevor  turned  to  her  daughter-in-law,  and  said, 
abruptly :  — 


92  TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

"  Where  are  the  diamonds  ?  " 

"  Diamonds  !  "  said  Eleanor,  rather  taken  aback. 

"Yes,  where  are  the  diamonds?"  demanded  the 
old  lady  again. 

Eleanor  felt  as  if  she  ought  to  put  her  hand  in  her 
pocket,  and  produce  them.  There  was  a  stand-and- 
deliver  air  about  the  enquiry  which  was  quite  dis- 
concerting. 

"  You  haven't  got  any  on.     Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  I  don't  possess  any,"  said  Eleanor,  "  or  I  should 
certainly  wear  them." 

"  Yes,  but  the  family  diamonds  !  My  sister-in-law 
had  plenty ;  they  must  have  been  left  to  Henry." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Eleanor,  "I  see.  No,  I  have  never 
heard  of  them." 

"  Aunt  Elizabeth  had  some  very  fair  jewels,"  said 
Minnie,  who  was  standing  in  front  of  the  fire,  stir- 
ring her  coffee,  while  Mildred  was  crouched  on  the 
rug,  balancing  grams  of  sugar  on  Alphonse  Daudet's 
nose.  "  The  last  time  I  saw  her  was  at  a  crush  in 
London,  and  she  was  encased  in  maroon  velvet,  posi- 
tively blistered  with  diamonds.  Poor  dear,  she  was 
huge,  and  looked  like  a  large  plum  jelly,  half  melted. 
Do  you  remember,  Mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes !  She  was  stout,  but  she  had  very  fine 
diamonds."  Mrs.  Trevor  spoke  almost  regretfully. 
The  diamonds  were  evidently  on  her  mind. 


FKESH  FIELDS   AND  PASTURES   NEW         98 

"She  had  a  huge  star,"  continued  Minnie,  "and 
wore  it  perched  on  the  apex  of  her  lower  chest ! 
The  effect  was  certainly  startling.  No  joke  intended," 
she  added,  as  a  little  chuckle  came  from  Mildred. 
"  But  seriously,  Eleanor,  where  are  the  jewels  ?  " 

"  You  must  ask  Henry,"  Eleanor  said,  smiling. 

"  What  a  funny  woman  you  are  !  I  shouldn't 
have  slept  a  night  in  this  house  before  they  were 
safely  under  my  pillow.  I  adore  diamonds !  Eleanor," 
she  added  suddenly,  "why  don't  you  cut  Henry's 
hair?" 

Eleanor  was  beginning  to  feel  as  if  she  was  playing 
at  a  game  of  surprise  questions. 

"  Does  it  want  cutting  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Want  cutting ! "  ejaculated  Minnie,  with  her 
high  laugh.  "  He  looks  like  an  organ-grinder.  Do 
you  know,"  she  paused,  —  reflectively,  —  "I  almost 
think  that  if  you  broke  Henry's  spectacles  and  cut  his 
hair,  he  might  be  quite  good-looking.  Why  don't 
you?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  like  to  suggest  it." 

"Oh!  I  will,"  said  Minnie,  cheerfully.  "You 
leave  it  to  me." 

"Oh!  don't,"  said  Eleanor,  quickly.  "I  am  sure 
he  wouldn't  like  it." 

She  was  rather  embarrassed  at  this  calm  discussion 
of  her  husband's  personal  appearance. 


94  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  I  shall  ask  him  about  the  diamonds,"  announced 
Mrs.  Trevor. 

It  might  have  been  supposed  that  she  had  a  personal 
interest  in  the  matter,  in  fact,  Eleanor  rather  wondered 
if  her  husband  ought  not  to  offer  some  of  them  to  his 
relations. 

But  Sir  Henry  apparently  had  his  own  ideas  on 
the  subject.  He  seemed  surprised  at  the  question 
which  his  mother  hurled  at  him  the  moment  he 
entered  the  room,  but  he  answered  without  hesitation. 

"Diamonds  —  yes,  certainly.  They  are  in  the 
strong  room,  two  jewel  cases,  and  a  box  which 
the  lawyer  said  contained  lace." 

"Fetch  them,"  said  his  mother.  "I  should  like 
to  see  them." 

"  They  are  quite  safe,"  he  replied.  Then  he  turned 
to  his  wife.  "  I  am  sorry  to  have  been  so  remiss, 
Eleanor,"  he  said.  "  They  of  course  belong  to  you. 
You  shall  have  them  to-morrow." 

"  Oh  !  don't  you  think  they  are  much  safer  locked 
away  ?  "  Eleanor  returned. 

"You  must  have  them,"  he  answered.  "You  can 
lock  them  away  later  if  you  like,  but  they  are  yours. 
I  am  only  sorry  that  I  required  reminding." 

He  spoke  courteously,  but  quite  firmly,  and  made 
it  evident  that  the  matter  was  no  concern  of  either 
Mrs.  Trevor's  or  Minnie's,  so  their  curiosity  had  per- 
force to  remain  unsatisfied. 


FKESH  FIELDS   AND  PASTURES  NEW         95 

"  I  see  you  have  a  Browning  here,  Lady  Trevor," 
said  Captain  Maitland,  presently.  "Are  you  going 
to  join  the  Browning  Society  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Eleanor ;  "  I  really  don't  think  I  can. 
Mrs.  Stephens  asked  me,  but  I  don't  think  I  feel 
equal  to  it." 

"It  is  not  the  first  attempt  at  a  literary  society 
which  Mrs.  Stephens  has  started,"  said  the  Captain, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "They  die  an  early 
death." 

"Can  you  honestly  understand  Browning,  Lady 
Trevor  ?  "  asked  Roger  Bolding,  taking  up  the  book. 
"  I  must  confess  it  does  seem  rot  to  me.  Just  look 
here,"  —  and  he  read  :  — 

" '  It  was  roses,  roses  all  the  way, 

With  myrtle  mixed  in  my  path  like  mad, 
The  house  roofs  seemed  to  twist  and  sway, 
The  church  spires  flamed,  such  flags  they  had 
A  year  ago  to-day.' " 

"Sounds  like  recollections  of  a  night  out,"  said 
Vane-Talbert. 

"  He  must  have  been  very  drunk,"  murmured 
Minnie,  sweetly. 

"  Blind !  "  said  Vane-Talbert,  laconically,  as  he 
crossed  the  room  to  speak  to  Mildred.  Captain 
Maitland  was  talking  to  Sir  Henry,  and  Roger 
Bolding  and  Eleanor  were  still  standing  by  the 


96  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

table,  he  with  Browning  in  his  hand,  and  a  whim- 
sical expression  on  his  face. 

"  Now,  without  chaff,  —  I  am  not  a  scoffer,  Lady 
Trevor,  —  but  is  there  really  a  single  verse  in  this 
book  comprehendible  by  the  average  male  intelli- 
gence ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  said  Eleanor,  with  a  smile,  —  she  liked 
Roger  Bolding,  — "  there  are  some  beautiful  bits, 
quite  simple  and  straightforward.  My  favourite 
lines  of  all  are  Browning's." 

"What  are  they?" 

He  was  standing  in  front  of  her,  a  tall  and  virile 
figure,  with  the  frank  expression  in  his  eyes  that 
made  him  so  attractive.  And  Eleanor  repeated 
them. 

"  One  who  never  turned  his  back,  but  marched  breast  forward, 

Never  doubted  clouds  would  break. 

Never  dreamed  tho'  right  were  worsted,  wrong  would  triumph ; 
Held,  we  fall  to  rise,  are  baffled  to  fight  better, 
Sleep  to  wake." 

Her  colour  rose  a  little  as  she  recited  the  lines, 
for  she  was  not  accustomed  to  revealing  her  inmost 
thoughts,  but  she  never  faltered,  her  gentle  voice 
giving  due  force  to  the  words,  and  her  grey  eyes 
holding  his,  or  held  by  his,  until  the  end. 

"  Ah ! "  he  said.  Then  he  took  a  sheet  of  paper 
from  the  table.  "  Will  you  write  it  down  ?  " 

"Yes.     I  am  glad  you  like  them,"  she  said  simply. 


97 

He  did  not  answer  as  he  took  the  paper  from  her, 
folded  it,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  Then  Minnie's 
voice  broke  in. 

"  Mr.  Bolding !  Come  and  make  a  fourth.  Henry 
says  he  doesn't  play,  but  Mildred  will.  We  must 
have  a  game." 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  CONVERSATION  AND  A  MEETING 

"  Thought  once  awakened  does  not  again  slumber." 

— CAELTLB. 

"  SHE'S  a  ridic'lus  thing,  and  I  hate  her !  "  said 
Joan,  vehemently. 

The  shooters  had  returned  from  a  good  morning's 
sport,  and  were  assembled  in  the  hall  waiting  for 
the  announcement  of  luncheon,  when  the  front  door 
was  flung  violently  open,  and  the  child  burst  in. 
Her  face  matched  her  scarlet  cap  in  colour,  her 
mane  of  hair  streamed  behind  her,  while  Alphonse 
Daudet  tore  round  her  like  a  small  whirlwind,  giving 
vent  to  his  sympathy  in  short,  excited  barks. 

"Whatever  is  the  matter?"  cried  Eleanor  and 
Mildred,  together. 

"  Hullo  !  Hullo  !  Hullo  !  "  said  Bolding,  «  who  do 
you  want  shot?  I'm  here." 

Joan  threw  down  her  school  books,  and  burst  into 
a  torrent  of  explanation. 

"  I  know  what  i  horse '  is,  and  I  know  I'm  quite 
right  —  'tisn't  as  if  I  didn't  know  French  —  and  it 
wasn't  Daudet's  fault  if  the  chicken  stuck  in  the 
wire,  and  pulled  his  stupid  tail  out." 

98 


A  CONVEBSATION  AND  A  MEETING          99 

"  His  tail  seems  all  right,"  said  Vane-Talbert, 
consolingly.  "It  wags  much,  as  usual." 

"It  wasn't  his  tail,  it  was  the  chicken's  that 
came  out,"  sobbed  Joan.  "  And  Mrs.  Rector  says 
he  mustn't  never  come  to  school  with  me  any  more, 
and  as  for  that  stupid  Ma'mselle,  I  hate  her.  She 
don't  know  her  own  language." 

"  Suppose  you  try  and  tell  us  what  really  hap- 
pened," said  Eleanor,  drawing  the  child  on  to  her 
knee,  while  Mildred  wiped  the  tears  from  the  flushed 
little  face. 

"  Where  has  she  been  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Trevor. 
"She  is  terribly  excited.  She  ought  to  be  taught 
self-control." 

"She  goes  to  lessons  with  the  Rectory  children," 
explained  Eleanor,  "and  has  been  so  happy  up  to  now. 
What  has  Alphonse  Daudet  got  to  do  with  'horse,' 
and  what  is  all  this  about  the  chicken's  tail  ?  " 

Joan  grew  calmer  by  slow  degrees,  and  presently 
an  explanation  was  forthcoming. 

"  Well,  you  know  we  had  French  translation,  and 
it  was  about  'horse,'  and  I  wrote  it  quite  neatly, 
there  wasn't  no  blots,  and  when  that  Ma'mselle 
saw  it,  she  just  screamed  with  laughing,  and 
wouldn't  say  why !  Then  we  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  there  was  Phonso  talking  to  a  chicken ; 
he  was  only  quite  polite,  but  the  fool  thing  squawked, 
and  ran,  and  then  of  course  he  ran  too,  and  Mr.  and 


100  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Mrs.  Rector  was  running  after  him,  and  then  the 
fool  chicken  put  its  head  through  the  wire  netting, 
and  when  Mr.  Rector  came,  somehow  his  tail  was 
in  poor  Phonso's  mouth.  And  they  said  he  mustn't 
never  come  no  more !  "  Tears  were  perilously  near 
again.  "  And  he  is  so  polite  to  chickens  !  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mildred,  soothingly ;  "  I'll  take 
him  for  his  walk  in  the  mornings." 

"  When  that  was  over,"  continued  Joan,  "  I  was 
feeling  most  upset,  and  that  grinning  Ma'mselle 
was  giggling  so  I  could  have  shied  a  book  at  her, 
so  I  just  scrambled  my  things  together,  and  ran 
home.  All  she  would  say  was,  '  Ah  !  Mon  Dieu ! 
Cheval!  quel  enfant!'" 

"  Have  you  got  the  book  here  ?  "  asked  Eleanor. 
"  Let  us  see  what  you  wrote." 

It  was  produced,  and  there  in  Joan's  round  and 
laborious  writing  was  the  mystic  sentence :  — 

"  Je  suis  si  cheval  que  je  ne  puis  pas  hirondelle." 

Mildred  read  it  aloud,  and  there  was  a  shout  of 
laughter  from  every  one. 

"  Oh !  don't  laugh  at  her,"  said  Eleanor,  quickly. 
"  Don't  you  see,  Joan,  that  - 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  mind  your  laughing,"  interrupted 
Joan,  with  dignity.  "  My  friends  may  laugh  at 
me,  but  not  that  horrid  Ma'mselle." 

"But  this  is  hoarse,  sore-throat  hoarse,  dear  child, 
not  the  four-legged  horse." 


A  CONVEKSATION   AND  A   MEETING         101 

"  Sounds  just  the  same,"  returned  Joan,  obstinately. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you!  "  said  Bolding.  "  Horse 
is  horse." 

"  That's  just  what  Lavender  said." 

"  What  did  Lavender  say  ?  " 

"  She  said  that  to  her  mind  horse  was  horse,  call 
it  what  you  liked.  She  said  it  was  the  same  with  an 
ass.  'Some  calls  it  donkey,  and  some  calls  it  moke, 
but  it  weren't  no  more  than  a  ass'!"  said  Joan, 
dropping  into  the  vernacular.  "  She  said  if  she  were 
me,  she  wouldn't  go  for  to  worry  myself  about  a 
thing  what  would  blow  over.  A  horse  can't  blow 
over,  and  I  know  it's  chevdl,  'cause  Jim  says  he  is 
going  to  mount  a  cheval,  when  he  is  going  riding. 
But  Lavender  gave  me  this." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  in  the  palrn  of  which  lay  a 
large  striped  bull's  eye.  It  looked  very  sticky,  for 
fragments  were  adhering  to  it,  and  here  and  there 
could  be  plainly  seen  the  prints  of  Joan's  firm  white 
teeth. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Sir  Henry,  "  sweet  consolation  !  I 
agree  with  Lavender,  I  shouldn't  worry  about  it  any 
more.  Come  in  to  luncheon." 

"  It  reminds  me  of  being  swished  at  my  private 
school  for  translating  i  Hors  de  combat '  as  war-horse," 
said  Roger  Bolding.  "  The  authorities  refused  to 
believe  it  was  innocence  and  not  guile." 

"  I   will   go   down   this  afternoon,"  said  Eleanor, 


102  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  and  investigate  the  damage  done  by  Alphonse 
Daudet's  conversation  with  the  chicken,  and  soothe 
the  ruffled  feelings  of  Mademoiselle  at  the  same 
time." 

After  luncheon  Joan  was  allowed  to  go  out  with 
the  shooters,  to  her  great  delight,  and  she  started  off 
holding  Sir  Henry's  hand,  and  chattering  as  gaily  as 
if  the  morning's  storm  had  never  raged,  and  horses 
and  chickens  had  no  place  in  her  small  world. 
Minnie  and  Mildred  followed  with  the  rest  of  the 
guns,  and  Eleanor  was  left  to  entertain  her  mother- 
in-law. 

Mrs.  Trevor  seated  herself  by  the  drawing-room 
fire,  and,  after  a  prolonged  search  for  such  things  as 
spectacles,  knitting,  and  footstool,  announced  that 
there  were  several  things  she  did  not  understand. 

She  generally  began  her  sentences  with  "  I  do  not 
understand,"  in  a  tone  which  suggested  that  the 
implied  ignorance  on  her  part  was  entirely  due  to  the 
want  of  frankness  on  other  people's.  She  then  ran 
through  various  subjects  on  which  she  required  en- 
light  ment.  The  presence  of  Mildred  and  Joan  at 
*  Trevor  Lordship '  was  one,  and  Eleanor  gave  her  a  full 
and  particular  account  of  the  events  which  had  led 
to  their  coming.  It  was  punctuated  at  intervals  by 
sniffs  from  the  old  lady.  It  is  astonishing  how  much 
meaning  can  be  conveyed  by  a  sniff,  by  any  one  who 
is  really  an  expert  in  this  medium  of  expression. 


A   CONVERSATION   AND  A  MEETING        103 

Mrs.  Trevor  was  a  past  master  in  the  art,  and  had 
command  of  a  very  varied  selection,  all  distinct  and 
unmistakable.  At  first  Eleanor  found  it  embarrassing, 
but  after  a  while  she  learnt  to  distinguish,  and  be 
prepared  for  the  particular  kind  of  sniff  which  the 
subject  demanded. 

Minnie  didn't  like  her  remarks  greeted  with  this 
form  of  comment,  and  had  no  hesitation  in  saying  so, 
and  Mrs.  Trevor  took  great  pains  not  to  indulge  in 
the  habit  when  her  daughter  was  present,  but  on  this 
occasion  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  her  expressing 
herself  in  any  way  she  liked,  so  she  took  every  ad- 
vantage of  it.  The  subject  of  the  girls  was  punc- 
tuated with  sniff  scornful. 

The  next  topic  was  Minnie  herself,  and  Eleanor 
was  treated  to  the  usual  highly  moral  remarks. 
"  Dear  Minnie  will  do  what  is  right,  of  course  —  a 
wife's  place  is  with  her  husband —  but  the  wrench  of 
parting  will  be  terrible  —  "  accompanied  by  a  running 
obligate  of  sniffs  of  the  righteous  and  sympathetic 
order.  Eleanor  hadn't  heard  it  before,  she  didn't 
know  Mrs.  Trevor  well  enough,  so  she  listened  with 
great  respect,  and  was  duly  impressed. 

The  old  lady  really  enjoyed  being  able  to  let  her- 
self go,  and  enlarged  on  her  favourite  theme  — 
Minnie's  beauty  —  Minnie's  popularity  —  Minnie's 
wonderful  cleverness  —  until  even  she  felt  she  had 
said  all  there  was  to  say.  It  was  a  real  treat  to  her 


104  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

to  be  listened  to,  not  only  with  attention,  but  with 
interest,  and  Eleanor  really  was  interested. 

Then  Mrs.  Trevor  switched  the  stream  of  her  elo- 
quence on  to  another  line. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  said  majestically, 
"  what  you  and  Henry  intend  to  do." 

"In  what  way?"  enquired  Eleanor,  politely. 

"  Well,  are  you  coming  to  London  in  the  spring, 
or  not?  He  told  me  last  night  that  at  present  he 
had  no  intention  of  doing  so,  but  I  do  not  understand 
your  being  willing  to  bury  yourselves  in  the  country." 

"  I  love  this  place,  and  Henry  is  so  interested  in 
his  library  and  his  writing,  that  I  am  sure  he  would 
not  care  for  a  London  season." 

"  Now,  that  is  another  thing  I  wish  to  speak  to  you 
about,"  said  her  mother-in-law,  firmly.  "  It  undoubt- 
edly is  your  duty  to  take  your  proper  position,  and 
to  see  that  Henry  takes  his.  I  can  quite  understand 
why  you  married  him,  and  consider  that  you  were 
quite  wise.  This  house,  and  six  thousand  pounds  a 
year,  made  him  a  very  good  parti." 

"Mrs.  Trevor !  "  said  Eleanor,  indignantly.  "How 
can  you  say  such  a  thing  ?  We  had  been  engaged  for 
years! " 

"  Oh  !  I  know  there  was  some  silly  understanding 
many  years  ago ;  but  of  course  you  would  never  have 
married  if  he  had  not  come  into  this.  I  am  not 
blaming  you !  far  from  it !  I  think  you  acted  very 


A  CONVERSATION  AND  A  MEETING        105 

rightly ;  every  woman  who  isn't  a  fool  does  the  best 
she  can  for  herself ;  but  you  need  not  pretend  to  me 
for  a  moment  that  you  and  Henry  are  in  love  with 
each  other,  because  that  is,  of  course,  absurd.  You 
have  only  got  to  look  at  Henry !  Although  he  is  my 
own  son,  I  cannot  imagine  any  woman  in  love  with 
him.  Oh,  dear,  no !  —  and  a  calm  respect  wears 
much  better." 

Eleanor  did  not  speak,  she  felt  that  her  only  safety 
lay  in  silence,  and  Mrs.  Trevor  continued  speaking, 
apparently  quite  unaware  of  the  emotions  she  was 
arousing  in  the  mind  of  her  listener. 

"  And  now  that  you  are  his  wife,  it  is  your  duty 
to  take  your  proper  position  in  the  County,  and  to  see 
that  Henry  takes  his.  Of  course,  reading  and  writ- 
ing are  well  enough  in  their  way,  most  useful,  I  am 
sure,  but  you  must  see  that  Henry  is  reasonable.  It 
would  be  terrible  if  he  got  the  name  of  being  a  re- 
cluse or  eccentric.  He  was  always  apt  to  be  in  the 
clouds ;  we  used  to  call  him  Johnny  Head-in- Air  when 
he  was  a  child.  But  now  that  he  has  this  house  and 
property,"  —  Mrs.  Trevor  waved  her  hand  in  a  move- 
ment which  apparently  included  heaven  and  earth, 
—  "he  really  must  take  his  position."  Sniff  deter- 
mined ! 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  do  what  he  thinks  right,"  said 
Eleanor,  rather  stiffly.  She  hardly  liked  to  get  up 
and  put  an  abrupt  end  to  the  conversation,  as  her 
inclination  prompted  her  to  do. 


106  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"He  ought  to  go  in  for  County  things,  Magistrates' 
benches,  and  Committees,  and  that  kind  of  thing. 
And  I  do  hope  you  will  be  careful  to  know  the  right 
people.  Now  there  is  Lady  Yarfield,  she  would  be 
most  helpful.  Have  you  met  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  called  a  few  days  ago." 

Eleanor  was  feeling  too  crushed  by  Mrs.  Trevor's 
late  remarks  to  recount  the  story  of  the  visit  which 
had  afforded  her  and  Mildred  immense  amusement  at 
the  time.  The  truth  being,  that  the  lady  in  ques- 
tion had  whirled  up  in  a  motor,  and  rushed  into  the 
house  for  exactly  ten  minutes  by  the  clock ;  during 
which  time  she  had  poured  out  a  plaintive  history 
about  the  loss  of  her  favourite  dog,  and  a  picture 
which  she  had  just  had  painted  of  him.  She  had  re- 
marked pathetically,  "  I  assure  you,  dear  Lady  Trevor, 
it  is  so  life-like,  that  when  I  go  into  the  room  I  can 
smell  him !  I  can  indeed  !  "  She  had  not  given 
Eleanor  the  impression  of  being  a  helpful  person, 
under  any  circumstances. 

"Who  else  has  called?" 

Eleanor  mentioned  some  names,  and  fortunately 
there  happened  to  be  one  or  two  ladies  of  title  among 
them,  so  Mrs.  Trevor  seemed  satisfied  that  they  were 
the  right  people. 

"  I  do  not  understand  why  he  wears  spectacles," 
was  the  next  question. 

"  He  hurt  his  eyes  some  time  ago,  and  has  worn 


A  CONVEBSATION  AKD  A  MEETING        107 

them  ever  since ;  but  I  think  he  ought  to  see  a  good 
oculist  now  that  he  has  come  home." 

"  I  shall  insist  upon  his  doing  so.  I  do  trust  you 
will  make  him  look  more  like  other  people !  As 
Minnie  said  the  other  night,  his  hair  is  too  long.  I 
should  be  greatly  disturbed  if  he  was  thought  odd  in 
any  way ! " 

Eleanor  laughed,  she  really  couldn't  help  it. 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  be  afraid." 

"He  looks  so  much  too  old.  He  looks  sixty!" 
Mrs.  Trevor  was  becoming  quite  depressed.  "  I 
married  at  twenty,  and  he  was  born  the  next  year. 
He  had  nice  fat  legs,  and  was  no  trouble  to  feed.  I 
do  not  understand  why  Minnie  has  no  child !  I  don't 
think  she  feels  it  as  much  as  I  do,  for  nowadays 
women  don't  seem  to  be  interested  in  a  nursery,  and 
certainly  it  might  spoil  her  figure." 

The  old  voice  rippled  on,  and  gradually  grew  fainter 
and  fainter,  the  sniffs  became  snores,  and  presently 
Mrs.  Trevor  was  sound  asleep.  Eleanor  rose,  quickly 
and  noiselessly,  and  fled  from  the  room.  A  few 
minutes  later  she  was  walking  briskly  down  the 
avenue. 

A  heavy  gale  the  night  before  had  stripped  the 
last  leaves  from  the  lime-trees,  and  strewn  thickly  on 
the  road,  where  they  crackled  under  foot  in  the  frosty 
air,  and  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  touched  the 
fronds  of  the  dead  bracken  with  tips  of  scarlet  and 


108  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

gold  and  orange.  Now  and  then  the  startled  call  of 
a  pheasant,  or  the  distant  report  of  a  gun,  rang  out 
upon  the  keen,  still  air,  but  otherwise  there  was  no 
sound. 

All  the  little  inhabitants  of  the  park,  feathered  and 
furred,  were  crouched  in  hidden  security,  frightened 
into  safe  retreat  by  the  invasion  of  shooters  and 
beaters  earlier  in  the  day.  Did  they  wonder  what 
fever  seized  the  horrid  race  of  mankind,  that  after 
endless  months  of  peace  and  quiet,  they  should  sud- 
denly descend  upon  the  sylvan  solitudes,  disturb  the 
silence  with  their  shouts  and  laughter,  and  then  pass 
on,  leaving  death  and  havoc  in  their  trail;  empty 
burrows  and  forsaken  forms  to  mark  their  onslaught. 
Or  does  the  instinct  which  prompts  concealment  also 
teach  that  death  is  to  be  expected  should  concealment 
not  be  sufficiently  complete  ?  Is  "  the  survival  of  the 
fittest"  accepted  as  a  natural  law  among  the  denizens 
of  the  "  game  "  world  ?  Does  Mrs.  Rabbit  say  calmly, 
on  noticing  her  offspring's  vacant  place,  "  He  should 
have  taken  better  care  of  himself.  I  have  managed 
to  survive  five  seasons  !  "  or  does  she  silently  console 
herself  with  the  thought  that  there  will  be  all  the 
more  room  for  her  next  family  ?  The  question  of 
overcrowding  must  be  acute  in  Bunnyland  ! 

The  fresh  air  and  exercise  were  gradually  cooling 
Eleanor's  indignation,  and  presently  she  gave  a  little 
laugh  as  she  recalled  the  gist  of  her  mother-in-law's 


remarks.  Mrs.  Trevor  was  a  privileged  person,  and 
must  evidently  not  be  taken  too  seriously,  but  even 
so,  Eleanor  felt  that  she  had  food  for  thought. 

In  truth,  she  had  done  a  good  deal  of  hard  think- 
ing lately,  ever  since  the  night  on  which  her  husband 
had  spoken  of  his  years  of  absence.  She  had  been 
indulging  in  a  course  of  introspection,  a  thing  which 
was  new  to  her,  and  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  she 
found  quite  painfully  absorbing.  She  was  anxiously 
searching  for  the  thing  she  had  missed,  for  she  knew 
she  had  missed  something,  but  what  it  was  she  had 
been  unable  to  discover.  Over  and  over  again  she 
asked  herself  the  same  questions.  Why  had  she 
never  more  than  touched  the  outer  fringe  of  the  lives 
of  those  around  her  ?  Why  had  she  allowed  her  sen- 
sibilities to  become  blunted  by  a  mass  of  trifling  duties 
and  worries,  which  it  seemed  to  her  now  could  never 
have  been  of  any  real  importance  ?  Why  had  she 
lost  in  such  a  measure  the  power  of  enjoyment,  which 
was  now,  happily,  returning  to  her  by  leaps  and 
bounds  ? 

She  told  herself  angrily  that  she  must  have  been 
hardly  alive !  The  broader  issues  of  life  had  held  no 
meaning  for  her.  What  was  the  reason  ?  Was  it 
something  she  had  lost,  or  something  she  had  never 
possessed  ?  There  was  Mildred  enjoying  every  mo- 
ment of  her  life,  keenly  interested  in  everything  and 
every  one,  from  the  scullery  maid's  young  man  to  the 


110  TREVOK  LORDSHIP 

lame  dog  at  the  farm,  appreciative  of  every  form  of 
beauty,  of  every  note  of  music,  every  shade  of  colour 
in  the  autumn  woods  and  fields.  Why !  looking  back, 
she  herself  could  hardly  remember  anything  that  had 
happened  five  years  before !  some  more  important 
events  she  could  recall,  but  none  of  the  little  details, 
such  as  Mildred  poured  out  to  her  for  hours  at  a  time. 
It  seemed  almost  as  if  her  mind  had  been  a  smooth, 
hard  surface,  which  the  passing  hour  had  had  no  acid 
to  engrave  with  the  hundred  little  lines  and  dots  that 
make  a  picture  at  the  last.  What  was  the  power  that 
made  heart  and  mind  receptive  to  Life's  influence? 

Mrs.  Trevor's  calm  statement  as  to  her  motives  in 
marrying  had  been  abominable !  —  wicked  !  —  but  it 
was  so  ridiculous  and  so  untrue  that  she  felt  she 
must  laugh  at  it.  It  really  was  not  worth  worrying 
about.  Why  did  people  always  talk  about  being  in 
love  ?  she  wondered.  Her  ideas  of  being  in  love  were 
not  very  clear,  she  had  not  read  a  great  many  novels, 
but  at  the  back  of  her  mind  was  a  feeling  that  it  was 
something  to  be  deprecated,  something  slightly  im- 
modest, if  the  truth  must  be  told.  It  was  a  condi- 
tion that  made  people  do  very  foolish  and  unsuitable 
things,  and  seemed  to  blind  the  judgment  of  the 
wisest. 

But  she  was  very,  very  fond  of  Henry ;  her  life  with 
him  was  something  pleasanter  than  she  had  ever  im- 
agined ;  she  had  everything  she  wanted.  They  had  so 


far  had  no  disagreement  whatever,  and  she  felt  no 
doubt  that  he  was  equally  contented.  He  was  very 
easily  contented !  She  could  almost  have  wished  that 
he  made  more  demands  upon  her  time  and  attention, 
there  seemed  so  little  that  she  could  do  for  him. 

He  had  come  in  from  shooting  in  a  most  happy 
humour,  laughing  and  talking  far  more  than  was 
usual  with  him,  full  of  the  enjoyment  of  the  day, 
and  boasting  with  evident  pleasure  that  his  hand  had 
not  lost  its  cunning  after  all  these  years.  He  had 
spoken  more  than  once  of  his  plans  for  improving 
the  shooting  next  year,  and  had  discussed  details 
with  Roger  Bolding  and  Captain  Maitland  in  the 
keenest  way. 

Mrs.  Trevor  was  really  rather  a  silly  old  thing ! 
Of  course  Henry  would  do  his  share  of  the  duties  his 
ownership  of  the  property  entailed.  Why  should  she 
suppose  that  because  a  man  was  literary,  he  should 
take  no  interest  in  the  world  outside  ?  However,  she 
had  always  heard  that  every  one  had  to  put  up  with 
something  from  their  mother-in-law,  and  Mrs.  Trevor 
was  quite  kind,  and  Minnie  delightfully  entertaining. 

On  her  return  homeward,  she  made  a  detour  through 
a  small  coppice  which  lay  on  the  outside  of  the  park ; 
she  had  often  walked  there  before,  and  as  the  sports- 
men had  been  through  it  in  the  morning,  she  knew 
it  would  be  deserted  now.  The  great  beech-trees, 
stripped  now  of  their  burden  of  golden  leaves,  were 


112  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

standing  gaunt  and  ghostly  in  the  nebulous  atmos- 
phere, as  if  waiting  until  the  hand  of  Spring  should 
restore  them  to  life  again.  The  wind  had  died  down, 
and  hardly  a  rustle  broke  the  stillness;  only  once  a 
frightened  rabbit  scudded  across  the  path,  as  if  ten 
thousand  horrors  raced  at  his  heels,  and  dived  into 
his  hole  at  the  foot  of  a  great  tree. 

The  path  took  a  sharp  twist,  and  as  Eleanor  turned 
the  corner  she  saw,  to  her  surprise,  two  figures  walk- 
ing towards  her.  The  meeting  was  so  unexpected  in 
the  solitude  of  the  wood,  that  for  a  moment  she  stood 
still  in  surprise.  Then,  walking  forward,  she  saw 
that  they  were  two  women,  one  elderly,  and  the 
other  much  younger,  who  leant  on  her  companion, 
and  seemed  greatly  fatigued.  Eleanor  suddenly  re- 
membered Captain  Maitland's  jest  about  the  house  of 
mystery,  that  house  which  lay  shrouded  in  trees  only 
about  two  hundred  yards  away,  and  felt  sure  that 
the  elder  of  the  two  must  be  the  Mrs.  Mollison  of 
whom  he  had  spoken.  She  remembered  also  what  she 
had  heard  about  the  disinclination  of  the  inhabitants 
to  see  strangers,  and  was  intending  to  walk  rapidly 
past  them,  when  she  heard  the  younger  woman  say : 

"  I  can't  go  any  further,  Nannie,  I  can't  indeed  ! 
I  am  so  dreadfully  tired ! " 

"  Come,  come,  my  lamb ! "  was  the  reply,  given 
with  a  strong  Scotch  accent.  "  You'd  not  be  the  one 
to  give  in.  'Tis  only  a  wee  while  further." 


A  CONVEKSATION   AND  A  MEETING        113 

At  this  moment,  the  girl,  for  she  looked  no  more, 
swayed  heavily,  and  would  have  fallen,  but  Eleanor 
stepped  quickly  to  her,  and  said: 

"  You  are  very  tired,  I'm  sure.  Take  my  arm, 
and  you  will  find  it  easier  to  walk." 

A  red  flush  spread  painfully  over  the  white  face, 
and  there  was  no  reply,  but  Mrs.  Mollison  said  civilly : 

"  Thank  you,  I  think  we  can  manage  all  right." 

But  Eleanor  turned,  still  supporting  the  feeble 
figure,  and  the  three  walked  on  together. 

"You  have  come  further  than  you  intended,  I 
expect,  but  it  is  so  lovely  this  afternoon,  although  now 
the  sun  has  gone  down,  it  is  much  colder.  I  am  Lady 
Trevor,  and  I  often  come  into  this  wood.  It  is  so 
beautiful, isn't  it?" 

She  was  talking  at  random,  for  she  was  most 
anxious  not  to  appear  inquisitive. 

"I  fear  we  are  trespassing,  m'  lady,"  said  Mrs. 
Mollison,  "  but  I  heard  the  shooters  go  through  this 
morning,  and  did  not  think  we  should  meet  any  one 
now." 

"  Oh,  no;  I  am  glad  you  enjoy  walking  here.  It  is 
so  nice  and  quiet." 

In  a  few  moments,  Eleanor  saw  to  her  relief  that 
they  were  approaching  the  end  of  the  path,  and  that 
there  was  a  small  door  in  the  boundary  wall,  for  it  was 
evident  that  the  invalid's  steps  were  growing  feebler, 
and  she  leaned  more  heavily  on  the  supporting  arms. 


114  TREVOK  LORDSHIP 

Mrs.  Mollison  glanced  at  her  once  or  twice,  and 
then  looked  at  Eleanor  with  a  meaning  she  quite 
understood.  She  opened  the  door,  and  together  they 
half  supported,  half  carried  the  girl  up  the  garden 
path  and  into  the  house.  She  motioned  to  a  door  on 
the  left  of  the  hall,  and  they  entered,  and  laid  her  on 
a  big  sofa  in  front  of  a  cheerful  fire. 

"  I  will  go  and  get  some  wine,  m'  lady.  I  won't  be 
a  moment." 

Eleanor  removed  the  girl's  hat  and  gloves,  and 
chafed  her  hands,  which  were  icy  cold.  The  white 
face  on  the  cushion  was  deathly  in  its  pallor,  and 
Eleanor  felt  greatly  alarmed,  for  she  was  not  without 
experience  in  illness,  and  could  see  that  she  was  very 
ill  indeed. 

In  a  moment  Mrs.  Mollison  came  back,  and  pres- 
ently the  wine  and  the  warmth  restored  a  faint  colour 
to  the  pale  cheeks  of  the  girl.  She  opened  her  eyes, 
and  said,  slowly : 

"  Thank  you,  you  are  very  kind." 

"  You  lie  quietly  a  minute,  dearie,  and  you'll  be 
better,"  said  Mrs.  Mollison,  tenderly :  and  wearily  the 
blue  eyes  closed  again. 

Eleanor  rose  from  her  knees,  for  she  had  been 
kneeling  beside  the  couch,  and  followed  the  Scotch- 
woman into  the  hall. 

"  She  is  very  ill,  I  fear." 

"Aye  !  she  is  ill,  m'  lady.     We  do  all  we  can —  " 


A  CONVERSATION  AND  A  MEETING        115 

The  tears  stood  in  the  poor  woman's  eyes,  and  her 
voice  faltered. 

"I  am  quite  sure  you  do,"  said  Eleanor,  kindly. 
"Can  I  help  you  in  any  way  ?  I  should  be  so  glad  to 
be  of  some  use." 

Mrs.  Mollison  opened  her  lips  as  if  about  to  speak, 
then  she  evidently  thought  better  of  it,  and  was  silent. 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  help  you  ?  " 

Eleanor  had  a  beautiful  voice,  very  gentle  and  low, 
and  just  now  it  was  vibrant  with  sympathy.  The 
woman  turned  suddenly,  and  held  out  a  rough,  toil- 
worn  hand. 

"  M'  lady,"  she  said,  quickly,  "  you'll  forgive  me, 
'twas  no  mistrust.  God  knows  she  wants  a  friend  — 
she  has  no  friend  but  me  that  am  but  a  rough  woman, 
though  none  could  love  her  more.  Your  face  is  kind. 
I  have  seen  you  once  or  twice,  though  you  did  not 
see  me,  and  I  felt  your  heart  is  kind.  But  I  must 
tell  you  this  —  if  you  will  be  a  friend  to  her  as  needs 
one  sorely,  you  must  ask  no  questions,  and  seek  to 
know  nothing  but  what  she  tells  you.  And  I'm 
thinking  that  will  no  be  much." 

"  I  will  ask  no  questions,  and  seek  to  know  nothing," 
repeated  Eleanor,  quietly ;  "  but  I  would  like  to  be 
a  friend  if  you  will  let  me.  May  I  come  again? " 

"  Aye !  Come,  m'  lady,  though  I'm  no  saying  if 
she'll  see  you." 

"  I  will  come  and  try.     Meanwhile,  won't  you  let 


116  TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

me  know  if  there  is  anything  you  want.  Wine  or 
fruit?" 

"  Thank  you,  m'  lady,"  said  the  woman,  rather 
proudly.  "  We  take  care  that  she  wants  for  nothing 
of  that." 

"  I  will  come  again,"  said  Eleanor. 

As  she  retraced  her  steps  along  the  woodland  path, 
her  heart  ached  with  pity  for  the  girl  she  had  just 
left.  She  looked  almost  a  child.  What  blow  had 
Fate  dealt  her,  that  she  should  wear  that  look  of 
grief  ? 

She  was  determined  to  keep  the  letter  of  her 
promise;  she  would  ask  no  questions,  not  seem  to 
wish  to  know  anything,  if  only  she  might  do  some- 
thing, however  little,  to  lighten  the  look  of  anguish 
in  those  sorrow-stricken  eyes. 


CHAPTER  X 

NEW  INTERESTS 

"We  sleep,  but  the  loom  of  life  never  stops;  and  the  pattern  which 
was  weaving  when  the  sun  went  down,  is  weaving  when  it  comes  up  to- 
morrow." —  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

"  I  HAVE  had  a  very  interesting  letter  from  Phillips 
this  evening,"  said  Sir  Henry,  after  dinner.  "He 
quotes  a  certain  Dr.  Harper  as  a  great  authority  on 
the  subject  of  our  correspondence.  I  have  heard  of 
him,  of  course.  I  wish  there  was  a  chance  of  my  meet- 
ing him." 

"  Do  you  mean  Dr.  Harper,  the  e  Century '  man  ?  " 
asked  Minnie. 

"  Yes ;  do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him.  A  dried-up  old  fossil  with  a 
moth-eaten  beard.  I  have  never  spoken  to  him, 
shouldn't  know  what  to  say  to  him  if  I  did !  but  a 
friend  of  mine  married  his  equally  fossilized  son.  I 
can  introduce  you  to  Mary  Harper,  if  you  like,  and 
she  can  pass  you  on  to  her  papa-in-law." 

"  I  should  like  it  extremely,"  said  Sir  Henry, 
quickly.  "He  is  the  man  above  all  others  I  have 
wished  to  meet." 

"  Mary  Harper  is  rather  blue,  herself.     We  were  at 

117 


118  TEEVOE  LORDSHIP 

school  together,  and  she  was  always  top,  and  I  was 
always  bottom !  She  really  is  a  little  too  clever  for 
everyday  use,  but  I  like  her.  Some  people  are  like 
that,  aren't  they  ?  You  must  treat  them  like  dic- 
tionaries, leave  them  on  a  shelf,  and  only  take  them 
down  when  you  want  them.  They're  too  heavy,  and 
get  in  the  way  when  they're  knocking  about  all  the 
time  !  But  I'll  take  Mary  Harper  off  her  shelf,  and 
ask  her  to  dinner  to  meet  you,  with  pleasure.  I 
suppose  I  must  ask  her  fossil,  too.  When  will  you 
come  ? " 

"  I  think  any  time  will  suit  me.     Eh  !  Eleanor  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  his  wife  replied  quickly.  "  I  don't 
think  there  is  anything  to  prevent  your  going  at  any 
time." 

"  Well,"  said  Minnie,  "  why  not  come  back  to  Lon- 
don with  us?  What  do  you  say,  Mamma?  We  can 
put  you  up,  and  you  can  come  and  go  as  you  like, 
and  stay  as  long  as  you  like." 

"  Thank  you  very  much.  I  will  come  with  pleas- 
ure." 

"  You  don't  mind  being  made  love  to,  do  you  ? " 
enquired  Minnie,  -suddenly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  said  Sir  Henry,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  You  see,  Violet  Green  will  be  staying  with  me, 
and  she  always  makes  love  to  any  man  she  sees.  She 
might  practise  on  you,  just  to  keep  her  hand  in." 


NEW  INTERESTS  119 

Minnie  had  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  her  eye,  and  was 
evidently  enjoying  her  brother's  look  of  discomfiture. 
"  What  would  you  do,  Henry,"  she  continued,  laugh- 
ing, "  if  any  one  made  love  to  you  ?  I'd  take  it  on 
myself  if  I  wasn't  your  sister,  just  to  see  how  you 
took  it." 

"  I  should  dislike  it  intensely  under  any  circum- 
stances," he  answered  firmly. 

"  Oh,  no  !  not  if  the  woman  was  pretty  enough," 
retorted  Minnie ;  "  but  you  needn't  be  too  anxious. 
Violet  is  quite  weirdly  ugly,  so  ugly  as  to  be  quite 
attractive  to  some  people.  But  you'll  be  bored  with 
her." 

"  I  shall  be  out  a  good  deal." 

Sir  Henry  spoke  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction  which 
made  them  all  laugh.  There  was  such  obvious  con- 
solation in  the  thought. 

"  I  shall  cut  his  hair,  and  break  his  spectacles,  and 
send  him  back  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  quite  tame," 
whispered  Minnie  to  Eleanor. 

Eleanor  laughed ;    she  was  getting  used  to  Minnie. 

"  I  do  think  he  ought  to  see  an  oculist,  but  I  am 
afraid  he  won't." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  will  —  if  I  have  to  drag  him  there  by 
his  hair,  before  it's  cut !  Come  and  play  Bridge." 

Presently  Sir  Henry  came  up  to  Eleanor,  who  was 
sitting  by  Mrs.  Trevor,  and  said : 

"  I  hope  you  don't  mind  my  going  to  London,  but 


120  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

it  really  is  a  great  opportunity,  and  I  hardly  like  to 
miss  it." 

"  Of  course  not !  I  am  delighted  that  you  should  go. 
Mildred  and  Joan  and  I  will  amuse  ourselves  very 
well.  Do  go,  and  stay  just  as  long  as  you  like.  By 
the  way,  do  you  think  I  could  ask  that  young  Lucas 
to  come  here  ?  Joan  is  perpetually  asking  when  her 
1  Jim '  is  coming,  and  I  really  think  it  would  be  a  great 
pleasure  to  both  the  girls  to  see  him.  I  don't  want 
them  to  lose  sight  of  their  old  friends." 

"  Ask  him,  by  all  means.  He  can  have  a  day's 
hunting  on  the  black  horse,  and  there  are  plenty  of 
rabbits,  if  he  cares  to  shoot  them.  But  I  shall  be 
back  in  time  to  see  him,  I  expect.  I  wonder  —  "  he 
hesitated  —  "  if  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  do  some- 
thing for  me.  I  hardly  like  to  trouble  you,  but  the 
fact  is,  that  I  have  some  copy  which  must  be  written 
out  again  before  I  go,  and  it  is  rather  more  than  I 
can  manage  single-handed.  Would  you  very  much 
mind  —  " 

"  Of  course  not ! "  said  Eleanor,  rising.  "  It  would 
be  a  great  pleasure.  Show  me  what  you  want 
done."  She  glanced  at  Mrs.  Trevor,  who  was  reclin- 
ing in  an  armchair,  with  a  book  still  upright  in  her 
hands,  but  her  eyes  closed.  "  She  won't  miss  me;  she 
will  doze  until  they  have  finished  playing." 

They  entered  the  library,  and  Sir  Henry  produced 
the  papers  and  gave  his  instructions. 


NEW  INTERESTS  121 

"I  am  much  relieved/'  he  said.  "  I  could  only  trust 
them  to  some  one  who  would  be  careful  and  accurate." 

Eleanor  felt  a  little  glow  of  pleasure.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  given  her  any  share  in  his  work. 

For  an  hour  they  sat,  each  at  a  separate  table,  and 
no  further  word  was  spoken,  for  Eleanor  was  glad  to 
find  that  her  work  was  quite  simple,  and  that  she 
had  no  need  to  ask  questions,  and  Sir  Henry  was 
absorbed  in  what  he  was  doing.  Then  she  rose. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  she  said ;  "  but  it  shall  be  fin- 
ished in  the  morning." 

She  gathered  up  the  papers.  Sir  Henry  did  not 
move,  his  head  was  bowed,  his  pen  was  moving 
rapidly,  he  was  lost  to  everything  except  his  occu- 
pation. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said  softly,  and  left  the  room. 

She  was  so  anxious  not  to  disturb  him  in  any  way, 
in  the  hope  that,  should  she  prove  to  be  an  efficient 
amanuensis,  her  services  might  be  employed  again. 
How  delightful  it  would  be  if  he  would  allow  her  to 
assist  him  in  his  work,  how  many  interests  they 
might  have  in  common ;  what  a  deep  interest  would 
be  added  to  her  life.  It  is  to  be  doubted  if  Sir  Henry 
even  noticed  her  departure,  for  he  possessed  a  remark- 
able power  of  concentration,  and  once  his  whole 
attention  was  given  to  the  work  in  hand,  he  had  no 
thought  beyond  it. 

The  game  was  just  over  when  Eleanor  entered  the 


122  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

drawing-room,  and  Mrs.  Trevor  had  awaked  with  a 
start. 

"  Have  you  had  a  nice  sleep,  Mamma  ?  "  enquired 
Minnie. 

"  I  have  only  been  thinking,"  returned  her  mother. 
"  I  shut  my  eyes  because  the  light  makes  them  ache. 
I  should  not  think  of  sleeping  after  dinner.  It  is  a 
bad  habit,  and  ruins  the  digestion." 

Mrs.  Trevor  was  one  of  the  many  who  would 
sooner  die  than  acknowledge  to  a  nap,  although  the 
process  of  thought  seemed  of  necessity  accompanied 
by  the  low  music  of  gentle  snores. 

"  I  must  thank  you  for  a  very  pleasant  visit,  Lady 
Trevor,"  said  Roger  Bolding.  "  It  has  been  delight- 
ful. We  have  had  some  excellent  sport.  I  think 
your  husband  has  enjoyed  it,  too." 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  he  has.  At  first,  you  know,  he  is 
rather  inclined  to  avoid  anything  that  what  he  calls 
'  wastes  his  time,'  but  I  am  sure  it  has  done  him  a 
great  deal  of  good." 

"  He  told  me  to-day,  as  we  walked  home,  that  he 
hadn't  enjoyed  anything  so  much  for  years.  He  got 
most  awfully  keen  about  it.  I  wish  you  had  been 
out." 

"  So  do  I.     I  must  try  and  come  out  next  time." 

The  guests  had  all  departed  with  Sir  Henry,  when 
Eleanor  broached  the  subject  of  Jim  Lucas's  visit  to 


NEW  INTERESTS  123 

the  girls.  Joan  received  it  with  wild  screams  of 
delight,  which  so  excited  Alphonse  Daudet  that  he 
was  seized  with  a  fit  of  "mental  abrasion,"  and  the 
child  and  the  dog  tore  round  and  round  the  hall, 
until  Eleanor  and  Mildred  begged  for  mercy. 

"Jim  is  coming!  Jim  is  coming!"  cried  Joan. 
"  May  I  go  to  the  station  to  meet  him,  and  drive  all 
myself  ?" 

"  My  dear,  I  haven't  written  to  ask  him  yet.  Per- 
haps he  won't  come." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he'll  come !  I  know  he  will.  He  said 
he'd  come  to  Zululand  to  see  me  if  I  went  there,  only 
he  wouldn't  promise  to  wear  nothing  but  beads  and 
grease.  He'll  come !  I  know  he  will.  I  do  hope 
he'll  come  before  Mr.  Roberts  goes." 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Roberts  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Roberts  is  Dobbs's  uncle.  He's  a  great  phil- 
anthropist, and  told  all  about  me  by  the  bumps  on 
my  head." 

"  Phrenologist !  "  whispered  Mildred.  Joan  always 
used  the  longest  words,  and  hated  to  be  corrected. 
"  Have  you  been  sitting  in  the  harness  room  with 
Dobbs  and  the  philanthropist?" 

"  Yes.  He  was  most  polite.  He  said  I  was  fond 
of  music,  and  might  be  led,  but  wouldn't  be  driven. 
Dobbs  said  that  was  like  the  garden  donkey,  which 
wasn't  very  polite  of  Dobbs.  But  I  know  Jim  would 
get  on  very  well  with  Mr.  Roberts ;  he  plays  the  cornet." 


124  TREVOR  LOKDSHIP 

"Who,  Jim  ?"  asked  Eleanor. 

"No,  Mr.  Roberts.  He  was  in  the  ' Better  Land' 
when  the  bell  rang,  and  I  had  to  leave  him.  Aunt 
Eleanor !  do  let  him  tell  your  bumps !  " 

"  No,  thank  you ! "  she  returned,  laughing.  "  I 
would  rather  not." 

"  He  really  is  a  very  interesting  man.  He  told  me 
a  great  many  things  about  myself  that  I  didn't  know 
before.  He  has  been  in  America,  and  fought  with 
the  Indians.  He  is  a  doctor,  too.  Dobbs  says  there 
is  nothing  he  can't  cure.  He  told  me  there  wasn't 
any  reason  why  people  shouldn't  live  till  they  were  a 
hundred  and  fifty,  if  they  would  do  as  he  told  them." 

"  How  is  he  going  to  make  them  do  that  ?  " 

"Well,  he  didn't  tell  me  exactly,  there  wasn't 
time.  But  they  had  to  drink  some  stuff  he  had  got 
in  a  bottle,  and  not  worry.  He  said  worry  was  what 
made  men  food  for  worms." 

"  How  very  nasty  !  "  said  Mildred. 

"  He  isn't  at  all  nasty,"  replied  Joan,  with  dignity. 
"  He  can  speak  seven  tongues,  and  is  most  interesting. 
I  know  Jim  will  love  him.  When  are  you  going  to 
write  to  Jim  ?  " 

"  I  will  go  and  do  it  now,"  said  Eleanor. 

"  Then  I'll  come  and  write  too.  Just  to  tell  him 
to  come  at  once.  I  know  he'll  come." 

Events  proved  that  Joan  was  quite  right,  for  Jim 
replied  that  he  would  come  with  pleasure. 


NEW  INTEKESTS  125 

On  the  afternoon  on  which  he  was  expected,  the 
girls  drove  to  meet  him,  and  Eleanor,  being  left  to 
her  own  devices,  walked  down  to  the  village. 

She  had  already  paid  one  visit  to  the  House  of 
Mystery,  or,  to  give  it  its  proper  title,  '  Rooks'  Nest.' 
Mrs.  Mollison  had  received  her  a  little  stiffly,  as  if 
she  repented  of  her  confidence,  but  Eleanor  was  de- 
termined not  to  be  put  off  by  any  coldness  of  manner, 
and  had  been  so  pleasant  and  friendly,  that  finally 
the  woman  had  asked  her  to  step  inside.  The  in- 
valid had  been  lying  on  the  sofa,  looking  very  frail, 
but  a  little  better  than  on  the  previous  occasion.  She 
was  very  shy  and  silent,  but  did  not  seem  averse  to 
Eleanor's  company.  The  room  was  bare  and  sparsely 
furnished,  but  a  bright  fire  and  a  bunch  of  flowers 
gave  a  touch  of  cheerfulness  to  the  scene.  A  small 
table  beside  the  couch  was  strewn  with  books. 

Eleanor  had  found  it  uphill  work  making  conversa- 
tion, and  had  finally  resorted  to  reading  aloud,  which 
the  invalid  had  seemed  to  enjoy.  She  confessed  to  a 
love  of  poetry ;  in  fact,  nearly  all  the  volumes  in  the 
room  were  poetical  works,  a  varied  assortment  from 
Shakespeare  to  Swinburne  and  Keats  to  Kipling.  She 
had  read  for  an  hour,  and  had  then  taken  her  leave, 
without  having  exchanged  more  than  a  few  words  with 
the  girl. 

To-day,  Eleanor  had  armed  herself  with  Adam 
Lindsay  Gordon  and  a  bunch  of  violets.  Mrs.  Molli- 
son was  much  more  genial. 


126  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  She  liked  your  visit,  m'  lady ;  she  seemed  quite 
bright  afterwards,"  she  said,  as  Eleanor  entered. 

The  girl  was  lying  in  the  same  position  as  before, 
but  there  was  more  animation  and  colour  in  the  face 
that  turned  to  greet  her  visitor.  She  accepted  the 
violets  shyly,  and  on  hearing  of  the  book  that  Eleanor 
had  brought,  said  she  knew  it,  and  asked  her  to  read 
"  The  Sick  Stockrider."  Eleanor  did  so,  reading 
slowly  and  quietly. 

"  I've  had  my  share  of  pastime,  and  I've  had  my  share  of  toil, 
And  life  is  short,  the  longest  life  a  span, 
I  care  not  now  to  linger  for  the  corn  or  for  the  oil 
Or  for  wine  that  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man. 
For  deeds  undone,  or  gifts  mis-spent,  or  resolutions  vain, 
'Tis  somewhat  late  to  trouble.     This  I  know, 
I  should  live  the  same  life  over  if  I  had  to  live  agahi  —  " 

The  girl  on  the  sofa  spoke  suddenly,  as  if  half  to 
herself. 

"  Ah !  That  is  it !  One  would  live  the  same  life 
over  if  one  had  to  live  again.  It  is  too  late  to 
trouble  now,  and  whatever  happens,  we  have  lived." 

Eleanor  was  struck  by  the  passionate  tone  in 
which  she  spoke. 

"  The  question  is,  ought  one  to  regret  ?  "  continued 
the  girl,  wistfully.  "  I  can't  regret." 

"  Why  should  you  ?  "  said  Eleanor,  stoutly. 

She  was  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  past,  but  one 
thing  was  certain,  you  had  only  to  look  into  the 


NEW  INTERESTS  127 

great  blue  eyes,  to  know  that  whatever  that  past  had 
been,  it  had  held  no  shame.  Sorrow,  yes,  in  full 
measure,  but  shame,  no. 

"And  some  day,"  the  girl  went  on  dreamily, 
"everything  will  be  put  right;  I  don't  know  how, 
because  it  seems  impossible  to  put  some  things 
right." 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Eleanor,  "we  shall  be  al- 
tered ourselves,  and  shall  not  want  the  same  things. 
Our  idea  of  happiness  may  be  different.  Who  can 
tell  ?  But  everything  will  be  put  right." 

"  Yes  !  I  believe  that.  What  should  I  do  if  I 
didn't  believe  that  ?  But  there  is  so  much  that  one 
does  not  understand." 

"  It  is  not  wise  to  seek  to  understand  too  much." 

"  Ah !  but  we  are  not  all  wise !  "  was  the  quick  re- 
ply, and  a  faint  smile  crossed  the  white  face.  "  And 
we  have  to  pay  the  price  whether  we  are  wise  or 
foolish.  Arid  some  of  us  are  bankrupt !  We  pay  all 
we  possess,  and  that  is  not  enough." 

"  It  must  be  enough,  since  we  can  pay  no  more." 

There  was  no  reply,  and  after  a  while  Eleanor  con- 
tinued reading.  When  she  had  finished,  there  was  a 
long  silence,  and  she  glanced  at  the  occupant  of  the 
sofa,  thinking  that  perhaps  she  had  fallen  asleep. 
But  no,  the  blue  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  one  hand 
was  idly  pushing  a  ring  up  and  down  her  finger.  It 
was  a  wedding  ring.  Eleanor  had  noticed  it  on  the 


128  TREVOR   LORDSHIP 

first  day,  and  had  noticed,  too,  how  much  too  loose  it 
was  for  the  thin  hand.  She  had  thought  of  her  new 
acquaintance  as  a  girl,  but  she  wore  the  badge  of  wom- 
anhood. Of  what  tragedy  was  it  the  outward  sign  ? 

"  The  past  seems  very  long  ago  when  the  future  is 
so  short,"  —  her  thoughts  seemed  to  be  uttered  un- 
consciously. 

"  Don't  say  that/'  said  Eleanor,  quickly.  "  The  fu- 
ture may  have  brightness  in  store  for  you.  Do  not 
trouble  about  it." 

"  I  do  not  trouble,  but  I  know  —  and  I  am  glad. 
It  is  very  peaceful  here.  I  have  no  trouble  —  now. 
The  sun  set  for  me  a  very  long  time  ago,  and  now 
the  last  rays  are  gently  fading  over  the  hills.  Those 
hills  that  were  such  weary  work  to  climb." 

"  The  dawn  will  be  bright,"  said  Eleanor,  gently. 

It  seemed  useless  to  urge  the  hope  of  living  on  one 
whose  journey  was  so  clearly  nearly  over.  If  she 
knew  it  herself,  there  was  no  need  of  pretence ;  that 
pitiful  pretence  which  watchers  by  a  sick  bed  keep 
up  with  breaking  heart,  while  all  the  time  it  deceives 
no  one !  The  approach  of  death  brings  very  clear 
vision,  as  a  rule. 

"Will  you  call  me  Constance?"  the  girl  said  sud- 
denly. "  It  is  my  name,  although  I  have  not  heard  it 
for  a  long  time.  You  are  so  kind.  I  have  always 
been  afraid  to  meet  people,  but  perhaps  I  was  wrong. 
There  was  no  reason  why  I  should  have  been  afraid ! " 


NEW  INTERESTS  129 

"  I  am  proud  to  be  your  friend/'  said  Eleanor. 

Just  then  Mrs.  Mollison  came  in,  and  Eleanor  rose 
to  go. 

"You  will  come  again  soon?"  said  Constance,  wist- 
fully. 

"  I  will  come  again  very  soon,"  she  replied,  as  she 
stooped  and  kissed  her. 

In  the  hall  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Mollison,  and  said : 

"Forgive  me,  but  has  a  doctor  seen  her?  Can 
nothing  be  done  ?  " 

"  Her  own  doctor,  that  has  known  her  from  a  child, 
comes  from  London  once  a  month,  m'  lady,  and  will 
come  oftener  if  we  send  for  him.  But  there  is  noth- 
ing to  be  done.  And  what  is  there  to  keep  her  ? " 
added  the  woman,  fiercely.  "What  is  her  life  now?" 

She  closed  her  lips  with  a  snap,  as  if  fearful  that 
she  might  say  more  than  she  intended.  Then  she 
opened  the  door,  and  Eleanor  passed  through  without 
a  word. 

After  this,  it  became  Eleanor's  habit  to  go  nearly 
every  afternoon  to  i  Rooks'  Nest/  generally  as  the 
evening  was  closing  in,  just  when  the  shadows  fall, 
and  thoughts  creep  out  of  the  corners  where  they 
have  been  hidden  during  the  daylight  hours.  She 
guessed,  and  rightly,  that  this  was  the  time  that  Con- 
stance needed  companionship  most  of  all ;  and  during 
the  ensuing  months,  a  real  friendship  grew  up  be- 
tween them.  There  was  such  a  pathetic  strength  in 


130  TEEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

the  girl's  attitude,  no  fear,  no  sorrow,  just  patience. 
Not  idle,  empty  patience,  but  the  strong  patience  of 
one  who  had  fought  and  lived,  and  gloried  in  the  liv- 
ing, of  one  who  has  failed  because  the  foe  was  too 
strong,  but  who,  nevertheless,  is  conscious  of  having 
fought  well.  She  opened  her  thoughts  to  Eleanor 
quite  freely  as  time  went  on,  and  they  were  so  poetic, 
so  deep,  and  at  the  same  time  so  true,  that  Eleanor 
was  lost  in  wonder  at  the  beauty  and  vigour  of  the 
intelligence  which  soared  above  the  trammels  of  the 
wasted  frame.  The  hours  spent  at  i Rooks'  Nest' 
were,  for  Eleanor,  some  of  the  most  happy  and  most 
fruitful  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR 

"  Is  this  a  dream  ?    O,  if  it  be  a  dream, 
Let  me  sleep  on,  and  do  not  wake  me  yet ! " 

—  LONGFELLOW. 

IT  was  all  very  puzzling!  Eleanor's  brows  were 
drawn  together  in  a  little  pucker,  and  her  eyes  had 
lost  their  calm  serenity.  She  stood  on  the  stone 
steps,  feeding  the  pigeons  from  a  basket  of  corn, 
mechanically  flinging  handful  after  handful  where  it 
was  most  needed,  without  conscious  volition. 

It  was  one  of  those  days  which  are  especially  sent 
to  be  the  solace  of  those  intrepid  ones  who  are  bold 
enough  to  brave  the  varied  rigours  of  an  English 
winter.  As  a  reward  for  valour,  the  fates  bestow 
just  once,  in  a  season  of  alternating  muggy  mildness 
and  freezing  fogginess,  a  day  on  which  it  is  a  treat 
to  be  alive  —  a  day  which  for  sheer  beauty  and 
caresses  can  hardly  be  equalled,  and  certainly  not 
surpassed,  in  any  corner  of  the  civilized  globe. 

The  sun  shone  kindly,  shielded  with  just  sufficient 
vapour  to  give  it  a  touch  of  uncertainty,  like  a  lady 
whose  charms  are  enhanced  by  a  gossamer  veil, 
which  betrays  rather  than  conceals  her  loveliness. 

131 


132  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

The  sky  was  all  shades  of  blue,  from  deepest  cobalt 
to  faintest  azure,  broken  here  and  there  by  fleecy 
clouds  which  scudded  on  unfelt  airs,  from  the  heavier 
masses  on  the  horizon,  like  sheep  breaking  from  the 
flock  on  entering  pasture. 

It  was  hard  to  believe  that  spring  was  not  at  hand, 
that  the  horse-chestnut  on  the  lawn  would  not  open 
sticky  buds  to  greet  the  festal  atmosphere.  But 
nothing  could  have  been  more  lovely  than  the  out- 
line of  every  tree-top,  in  its  myriad  branches  and 
twigs,  against  the  blue  of  the  sky.  The  great  stone 
pine  was  cut  like  a  silhouette  against  the  ether,  while 
on  the  old  wall  below  it,  a  peacock  was  pruning  his 
feathers,  and  spreading  his  tail,  which  flashed  and 
glittered  in  the  sunlight.  In  the  intervals  of  his 
toilet  he  was  watching  the  pigeons  at  their  morning 
meal,  with  an  aristocratic  and  haughty  air,  which 
held  at  the  same  time  a  tinge  of  envy.  Kings  may 
thus  envy  mortals  their  freedom  from  dignity's 
shackles,  and  it  was  beneath  him  to  scramble  for 
succulent  morsels  with  the  vulgar  herd.  Or  perhaps 
he  had  breakfasted. 

Sir  Henry  had  been  gone  for  three  weeks,  during 
which  time  Eleanor  had,  as  she  confessed  in  her 
letters  to  Miss  Price,  "  been  ridiculously  young !  "  It 
was  impossible  to  be  otherwise  with  Jim  Lucas  about, 
for  where  Jim  happened  to  be,  there  were  youth, 
high  spirits,  and  overflowing  gaiety.  They  had 


A  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR  133 

bicycled,  they  had  driven,  they  had  walked,  and  for 
one  short  week  they  had  skated,  and  all  the  time,  to 
use  Joan's  words,  they  had  "  Talked,  and  Talked,  and 
Talked."  Airy,  inconsequent  nonsense  which  it  did 
the  heart  good  to  hear.  Joan  had,  of  course,  had  her 
lessons  in  the  mornings,  so  Eleanor,  Mildred,  and 
Jim,  and  very  frequently  Roger  Bolding,  had  amused 
themselves  and  each  other. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week,  Eleanor  had  declared 
that  she  could  and  would  waste  no  more  time ;  but 
the  next  week  had  passed,  and  the  next,  without 
any  perceptible  change  in  the  order  of  each  day's 
doings.  Jim  said,  "  They  were  so  fearfully  busy 
doing  nothing ! " 

Sir  Henry  had  written  regularly.  He  was  enjoy- 
ing his  visit  to  London.  Dr.  Harper  had  proved 
even  more  interesting  than  he  had  expected.  They 
were  busy  hunting  up  some  references  at  the  British 
Museum,  and  he  would  return  when  his  researches 
were  completed.  But  so  far  no  date  had  been  fixed, 
or  even  suggested. 

Captain  Maitland  had  joined  their  party  on 
several  occasions.  He  was  enormously  taken  with 
Jim. 

"  He  is  a  delightful  boy,"  he  said  warmly.  "  So 
full  of  life  and  vigour  that  I  can  hardly  take  my 
eyes  off  him.  To  hear  him  at  that  piano  is  quite 
delightful.  I  laughed  until  I  was  tired,  the  other 


134  TEEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

evening,  and  found  myself  chuckling  all  the  way 
home." 

And  Eleanor  had  admitted  that  she  had  laughed 
more  since  his  arrival  than  during  the  whole  pre- 
vious course  of  her  life. 

"He  is  the  personification  of  gaiety,"  Captain 
Maitland  continued.  "  It  is  easy  to  see  that  Life 
has  never  troubled  him  for  a  moment." 

"  I  hope  it  never  will." 

"  No  !  For  haven't  you  noticed  that  those  people 
who  so  thoroughly  appreciate  joy,  appreciate  sorrow 
just  as  keenly?  However,  I  don't  know  why  we 
should  talk  of  sorrow  in  connection  with  Jim ; 
certainly  there  seems  no  shadow  of  a  cloud  on  his 
horizon.  They  are  two  dear  children,  and  I  pray 
they  may  have  all  the  joy  they  shed  on  others." 
Then,  noticing  that  Eleanor  looked  surprised,  he 
added,  "Am  I  a  gossiping  old  busybody ?  I  am 
so  sorry !  but  really  you  must  have  noticed  how  fond 
he  is  of  her,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  she  entirely 
returns  the  feeling." 

"  It  had  not  struck  me.  Joan  always  seems  to 
claim  most  of  his  attention;  Mildred  is  generally 
rather  silent.  I  have  noticed  it  particularly  since 
Jim  came." 

"  A  bad  sign  !  A  bad  sign ! "  said  the  old  man, 
laughing.  "  They  are  both  fine  natures,  they  will 
love  finely.  You  couldn't  have  expected  to  keep 


A  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR  135 

her  very  long,  you  know,  Lady  Trevor.  Youth 
and  love  are  inseparable.  Youth  is  love,  and  love 
is  youth,  the  fountain  of  eternal  Youth,  the  leaven 
in  the  lump  of  life,  ( The  only  thing  worth  having.' ' 

Eleanor  had  made  no  reply ;  and  presently  their 
conversation  had  drifted  into  other  channels. 

What  was  this  mysterious  power  ?  It  seemed  to 
surround  her  on  every  side.  There  were  Jim  and 
Mildred  stepping  hand  in  hand  into  its  radiant  circle. 
There  was  Captain  Maitland,  full  of  years  and 
common  sense,  stating  decidedly  and  thoughtfully 
that  it  was  the  only  thing  worth  having ! 

She  had  become  devoted  to  Mildred,  and  since  her 
conversation  with  Captain  Maitland,  had  watched 
her  with  different  eyes ;  and  she  was  forced  to  confess 
that  a  change  had  come  over  the  girl.  Her  smile 
had  an  added  beauty,  her  voice  an  added  sweetness, 
while  her  eyes  were  dim  as  with  some  vision  of 
transcendent  loveliness  which  was  dawning  before 
her. 

Eleanor  felt  as  if  life,  which  had  seemed  so  simple, 
had  suddenly  developed  all  the  complexity  of  a 
Chinese  puzzle.  The  more  she  tried  to  solve  it, 
the  more  she  missed  the  clue,  and  had  to  begin  all 
over  again.  She  emptied  her  basket,  and,  turning, 
went  indoors  with  a  vague  pain  at  her  heart. 

Later  that  day,  she  walked  into  the  village  shop. 
It  was  empty,  save  for  old  Lavender,  who  was  busily 


136  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

weighing  tea,  and  tying  it  into  half-pound  packets, 
singing  cheerily  to  herself  the  while.  She  had  sung 
in  the  village  choir  for  many  years,  before  the  era 
of  surpliced  boys,  and  now,  though  her  voice  was 
thin  and  reedy,  here  and  there  an  unexpectedly 
sweet  note  would  surprise  the  listener.  Probably 
the  practices  of  long  ago  had  fixed  words  and  tunes 
in  her  memory,  for  she  always  sang  hymns,  and 
they  were  always  cheerful. 

"  Count  your  bless  —  ings.     Count  —  them  —  one  by  one. 
Count  —  your  blessings.     See  what  —  God  —  hath  done." 

The  words  and  tune  came  uncertainly  and  jerkily, 
sometimes  they  ceased  altogether  for  a  moment,  when 
the  scales  required  a  particularly  nice  adjustment,  but 
after  the  pause  they  were  resumed  as  if  there  had 
been  no  interruption. 

"  Good-afternoon,  Lavender !    How  are  you  ?  "  said 
Eleanor. 

"  I'm  fine,  m'  lady.     How's  yourself  this  day  ?  " 
"  I'm  very  well,  thank  you." 
"  You've  not  got  Sir  Henry  back  yet  ?  " 
"  No,  not  yet,  he  is  still  busy  in  London." 
"  Ah !    London  !    That  do  seem  a  wonderful  place," 
said  the  old  woman,  nodding  her  head.     "  I  never 
was    there    but    once,   and   then    I   was   fairly   put 
about !    'Twas  years  ago,  and  I'd  an  aunt  lived  there. 
Some  l  Gardens/  I  don't  rightly  remember  the  name. 


A  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR  137 

Well,  I  went  up  one  day  with  a  square  of  honey,  and 
a  fine  plant  of  rosemary  for  to  put  in  her  '  gardens.' 
I  was  thinking,  maybe,  they'd  be  something  the  same 
as  them  up  to  yours,  m'  lady,  for  uncle,  he  was  a  warm 
man,  they  said.  And  when  I  got  there,  I  laughed ! " 

"  What  happened  ?  "  asked  Eleanor. 

"  Well !  I  got  into  a  big  yaller  carriage,  a  'bus  it 
was,  with  a  fat  man  sitting  under  a  great  umbrella, 
and  a  young  man  on  the  back  step,  very  pale  he  was, 
I  remember,  but  I  thought  perhaps  it  were  standing 
in  all  that  rocking  and  shaking.  Then,  all  of  a  sud- 
den we  stop,  and  he  says,  '  Here,  ma'am,  here's  your 
gardens.'  He  had  me  run  on  to  the  pavement  in  no 
time,  and  I  looked  all  round  for  them  gardens,  but  I 
couldn't  see  them.  Then  I  said  to  a  policeman, 
*  Please  tell  me  where  these  gardens  is,'  and  he  says, 
'  This  is  it.'  And  I  fairly  burst  out  laughing.  There 
was  a  sycamore  and  two  poplars  standing  bare  and 
black  ('twas  not  a  leaf  time,  being  February,  if  I 
mind  me  right),  and  there  was  seven  or  eight  measly 
bushes,  a  coal  scuttle  and  tomater  tin !  I  stood  and 
laughed,  and  laughed.  There  was  my  plant  of  rose- 
mary in  my  arms,  and  there  was  the  '  Gardens,'  look- 
ing worse  than  old  Tinker's  yard  "  (the  Marine  Store 
dealer).  "  His  trees  don't  do  well.  Trees  don't  seem 
to  favour  the  iron  scraps,  I've  noticed. 

"  I'd  heard  a  wonderful  lot  about  London  bein'  so 
gay  and  bright,  and  full  of  pleasure,  but  it  seemed  to 


138  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

me  that  the  pleasure  was  like  the  bubbles  in  the  gin- 
ger-beer, soon  bursted  and  gone.  And  London  folks 
was,  to  me,  kind  of  unfeeling.  There  was  aunt  took 
ill  sudden,  and  there  was  nobody  come  in  from  next 
door,  friendly  like,  to  help  her.  She  said  she  didn't 
know  her  next-door  neighbour  !  London  people  don't 
seem  to  have  no  more  heart  than  April  lettuce.  But 
maybe  I  was  wrong,  and  'twas  well  hidden." 

"I  don't  know  London  well,  but  I  don't  think  I 
should  like  to  live  there." 

"  So  you  see  it's  a  mercy  we  don't  neither  of  us 
have  to  !  "  said  old  Lavender,  cheerfully.  "  There's 
mercies  in  everything." 

"  I  came  to  ask  about  your  daughter.  I  heard  she 
wasn't  well." 

"  She  has  been  wonderful  poorly,  m'  lady.  I  went 
to  see  her  last  Monday,  and  she  was  sadly.  But  I 
had  a  letter  from  her,  and  she  says  she's  mending 
now.  Poor  soul !  the  life's  hard  for  her  when  she's 
ailing." 

"Are  they  still  moving  about?"  asked  Eleanor. 

"  They  aren't  often  more  than  two  days  in  one 
place.  Always  on  the  move !  I  never  could  abide 
it!  Waking  up  in  the  morning  and  not  knowing 
what  you  were  going  to  see !  If  I  couldn't  look  out 
and  see  the  bakehouse  chimney  standing  where  it  al- 
ways stands,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do !  That 
I  don't !  That  caravan,  that  do  seem  stuffy  too,  for 


A  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR  139 

if  the  door's  open,  'tis  freezing  cold,  and  the  boy  isn't 
over  strong.  But  she's  happy,  Bessie  is  —  wonderful 
happy !  So  long  as  her  man  keeps  on  the  square,  she 
don't  mind." 

"  It  must  be  a  very  different  life  to  being  here  with 
you.  I  wonder  she  could  go  away  to  that." 

"  She  found  her  man,"  replied  Lavender.  "  I  tried 
all  I  knew  to  reason  with  her  at  first,  and  then  I 
stopped,  for  I  knew  'twas  no  manner  of  use  fighting 
it.  For  where  your  love  calls,  there  you  must  go,  be 
it  near  or  far  —  and  then  'tis  Heaven  or  Hell,  accord- 
ing to  the  man." 

She  spoke  quite  simply.  She  was  stating  the 
truth  as  she  knew  it,  with  the  outspoken  courage 
with  which  the  strong  hearts  of  her  class  meet  Life. 
They  know  no  evasion,  no  subtlety;  the  thing  is 
there,  and  they  accept  it.  The  eternal  law  of  mating 
as  primeval  nature  mated,  but  with  the  complexity 
and  frailty  of  human  souls  added  to  it,  so  that  the 
outcome  was  not  to  be  foretold. 

A  sense  of  the  tragedy  underlying  the  words 
struck  Eleanor  like  a  blow.  On  the  top  of  her  heart- 
searchings  and  questionings,  this  calm  acknowl- 
edgment of  a  force  against  which  it  was  futile  to 
struggle,  a  force  which,  relentless  and  overwhelming, 
pushed  aside  the  mother-love  and  home-love  as  if 
they  were  of  no  account,  was  almost  more  than  she 
could  bear.  It  may  be  that  her  face  betrayed  her 


140  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

feelings,  for  almost  immediately  Lavender  continued 
with  a  smile  :  — 

"  But  there  !  '  tisn't  every  one  has  the  power  to  feel 
like  that.  'Tis  not  given  to  every  one,  to  be  sure ! 
Some  go  and  marry  for  nothing  more  than  a  roof,  or 
a  Sunday  frock.  With  Jennie  Miller  'twas  a  matter 
of  a  cow  and  a  chiny  teapot !  A  nice  teapot  it  was, 
and  Ned  Miller's  mother  and  grandmother  had  set 
wonderful  store  by  it.  They  used  to  say  it  had  come 
from  a  foreign  land,  and  certainly  there  was  not 
another  like  it  in  the  village.  His  mother  was 
always  a-talking  of  it,  saying  as  how  her  son's  wife 
would  have  something  no  one  else  had ;  and  Jennie, 
she  was  young  and  foolish,  and  when  Ned  asked  her, 
she  said  ( Yes,'  just  to  have  the  laugh  over  the  other 
maids,  and  not  caring  a  snap  about  him.  And  what 
happened  ?  She  was  feckless  and  untidy,  and  Ned 
grew  surly,  —  and  small  wonder,  with  a  home  like  a 
pigsty ;  and  one  day  Jennie  goes  cleaning,  in  a 
temper,  just  to  show  she  could  if  she  chose,  and  the 
handle  of  the  besom  knocked  the  chiny  teapot  off  the 
shelf,  and  broke  it  all  to  bits.  The  cow  died  soon 
after,  with  eating  a  bit  of  the  old  yew-tree  ;  and  there 
was  the  end  of  it !  He'd  got  a  wife  as  weren't  no 
manner  of  use  to  him,  and  she'd  got  a  man  with  a 
temper,  and  no  cow  and  no  teapot ! 

"  No !  No !  that  don't  do,  to  go  and  choose  a 
husband  like  you  would  a  pair  of  boots.  Not  but 


A  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR  141 

what  they're  much  alike,"  —  Lavender  nodded  her 
head  wisely,  "  for  if  they  don't  fit  you,  they'll  hurt 
you  horrid !  " 

Eleanor  made  no  reply,  and  after  a  pause,  Lavender 
said :  — 

"  You  never  can  tell  about  marriage,  can  you, 
m'  lady  ?  Seems  full  of  surprises,  it  does.  And 
folks  are  different.  Some  takes  things  earnest,  and 
some  takes  things  light,  and  folks  that  takes  things 
light  have  an  easier  time,  maybe  —  but  then,  again, 
maybe  they  miss  the  best !  " 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation  a  customer 
entered,  and  Eleanor  took  her  leave. 

It  seemed  almost  as  if  circumstances  had  combined 
to  force  the  same  topic  on  her  attention  from  every 
quarter.  She  did  not  seem  able  to  get  away  from  it. 
Wherever  she  went  it  haunted  her.  She  found  her- 
self wishing  her  husband  would  return.  When  her 
life  resumed  its  usual  routine,  her  time  would  be 
filled  in,  and  she  would  be  able  to  shake  off  these 
problems  and  fancies  which  had  taken  possession  of 
her.  She  had  had  too  much  frivolity  and  idleness ; 
she  must  start  hard  work  of  some  kind,  that  would 
restore  control  over  her  mind,  and  help  her  to  forget 
what  she  called  her  foolish  thoughts. 

Eleanor  felt  happier  when  she  had  arrived  at  this 
decision,  but  nevertheless,  after  she  went  to  bed  that 
night,  she  lay  awake  for  hours.  And  when  at  last 


142  TEEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

sleep  came  to  her,  it  was  not  the  quiet  slumber  to 
which  she  was  accustomed,  for,  contrary  to  her  usual 
habit,  she  dreamed. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  walked  in  a  quiet  garden 
of  lawns  and  trees ;  it  was  very  silent  and  very  peace- 
ful. She  noticed  with  surprise,  however,  that  there 
were  no  flowers,  nothing  but  foliage  and  verdure. 
Presently,  as  she  walked  along,  she  came  to  a  door, 
through  the  bars  of  which  she  could  see  glimpses  of 
another  garden,  which  was  full  of  flowers  in  full 
bloom  and  beauty.  There  were  lilies,  and  there  were 
roses,  masses  of  them,  more  than  she  had  ever  seen 
in  her  life  before,  and  the  scent  of  their  fragrance 
reached  her  through  the  barred  door.  She  raised  her 
hand  to  try  the  latch,  and  as  she  did  so,  she  noticed 
she  was  carrying  an  old  china  teapot !  It  seemed 
absurd,  even  in  her  dream,  that  she  should  be  walking 
in  a  garden  carrying  a  teapot ! 

She  found  she  could  not  open  the  door,  so  again 
she  waited,  although  she  did  not  know  what  for ;  but 
presently  she  saw  a  figure  coming  towards  her.  It 
was  curiously  indistinct ;  it  seemed  to  be  wrapped  in  a 
mist,  and  something  told  her  it  was  the  mist  of  years. 
The  figure  was  veiled,  and  she  could  see  no  face ;  but 
again  something  told  her  its  name  was  Love. 

And  Love  opened  the  gate,  just  a  little,  and  beck- 
oned with  his  hand.  She  longed  to  enter  the  garden, 
but  she  knew  she  must  not  do  so  until  she  had  seen 


A  KNOCKING  AT   THE  DOOR  143 

his  face,  and  she  could  not  see  it  through  the  veil. 
So  she  turned  and  walked  away,  feeling  faint  with 
longing  for  the  beauty  of  the  garden ;  and  when  she 
awoke,  she  found  the  pillow  was  wet  with  her  tears. 
The  dream  was  so  vivid,  so  real,  that  the  longing  did 
not  vanish  with  the  daylight  as  most  dream  longings 
do,  but  remained  with  her;  and  the  next  night,  and 
many  nights  after,  she  dreamed  the  same  dream. 

She  grew  quite  excited  about  it  at  last,  and  each 
night  she  wondered  if  the  figure  would  unveil  and 
show  his  face.  But  no,  it  remained  veiled.  The  only 
difference  was,  that  each  night  the  door  was  opened 
just  a  little  wider,  and  the  scent  of  the  roses  and 
lilies  grew  stronger,  and  more  fragrant. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW 

"  Love,  Love,  what  wilt  thou  with  this  heart  of  mine  ? 
Nought  see  I  fixed  or  sure  in  thee  ! 
I  do  not  know  thee  —  nor  what  deeds  are  thine, 
Love,  Love,  what  wilt  thou  with  this  heart  of  mine  ?" 

—  LONGFELLOW. 

"  WELL  ! "  said  Minnie,  cheerfully,  "  one  thing  is 
certain,  and  that  is,  that  Eleanor  has  every  reason  to 
be  enormously  grateful  to  me  !  There  isn't  another 
woman  who  could  have  done  what  I've  done  for 
Henry,  in  this  short  space  of  time." 

"He  really  is  a  different  man,"  replied  her  mother, 
with  an  admiring  sniff.  "  You  really  have  managed 
him  wonderfully.  Why !  last  night,  at  Lady  Seaton's, 
General  Laurence  asked  me  who  that  distinguished- 
looking  man  was." 

"  All  me ! "  said  Minnie,  regardless  of  grammar, 
dropping  a  curtsy  to  herself  in  the  looking-glass. 
"  Of  all  the  hairy,  hungry-looking  men  I  ever  saw, 
Henry  was  the  worst.  Toby  said  I  deserved  a  putty 
medal  for  walking  down  Bond  Street  with  him.  He 
didn't  look  so  bad  at  Trevor,  but  London,  cest  autre 
chose  !  I  did  it,  and  alone  I  did  it !  I  nearly  had 
hysterics  at  his  face  when  I  stopped  at  Douglas's,  and 

144 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  145 

said,  l  Now  go  and  have  all  your  hair  cut  off,  and  half 
your  moustache  ! '  But  he  went  in  like  a  lamb  ! " 

"  I  am  sure  Eleanor  ought  to  be  very  grateful  to 
you,"  murmured  Mrs.  Trevor. 

"  She  won't  be,"  said  Minnie,  sweetly.  "  She  will 
only  be  rather  shocked  at  my  daring  to  dictate  to 
him." 

"  But  the  spectacles  are  gone !  " 

"  Yes !  You  know  the  man  said  that  he  must 
still  wear  them  in  the  bright  sunshine,  and  that  if  he 
went  about  in  a  hot  climate  and  a  glare  he'd  probably 
go  blind.  But  that's  nothing,  because  no  one  can 
accuse  poor  old  England  of  being  too  sunny,  and  now 
that  he  has  got  the  place,  and  all,  he  won't  want  to  go 
abroad  again." 

Minnie  was  silent  for  half  a  minute,  and  then  she 
rattled  on  again  in  her  extravagant  way. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  putting  an  advertisement  in  the 
papers,  ( Gentlemen  trimmed  and  polished  until  fit  to 
shine  in  any  society.'  It  sounds  rather  like  furniture 
polish,  but  I'm  sure  it  would  pay." 

Mrs.  Trevor  sniffed  a  sniff  of  amusement,  and 
smiled. 

"  I'm  going  out  now,"  said  Minnie,  rising.  "  I'm 
lunching  at  Prince's  with  old  Brandt." 

"  I  can't  think  how  you  can  speak  to  that  horrible 
man,"  said  Mrs.  Trevor,  venturing  for  once  to  disagree 
with  her  daughter. 


146  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  My  dear  Mamma,  he  is  useful !  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  do  without  him.  He's  frightfully 
sharp,  and  knows  everything  simply  weeks  before 
any  one  else.  I've  made  a  pot  of  money  this  year  by 
following  his  tips." 

"He's  so  hideous,"  said  the  old  lady,  feebly. 

"  He  isn't  a  beauty,  certainly,  but  I  can  eat  a  very 
good  lunch  without  looking  at  him.  An  oyster  is  nastier 
to  look  at,  but  that  doesn't  prevent  my  eating  them ! " 

"  Shall  you  be  in  to  dinner  ?" 

"No.  I'm  dining  with  Toby,  and  going  to  the 
play,  but  I  shall  see  you  at  tea  time.  Ta-ta,  old  lady, 
I  must  run.  I've  got  to  try  on  two  gowns  at  Ce- 
leste's before  luncheon." 

Meanwhile,  Sir  Henry  was  seated  in  the  train  which 
was  bearing  him  rapidly  homeward.  He  was  leaning 
back  comfortably,  smoking  a  cigar,  and  reading  a 
magazine.  His  visit  to  London  had  been  a  great  suc- 
cess. He  had  met  the  right  men,  he  had  acquired 
the  information  he  needed,  and  in  the  bag  which  lay 
beside  him  on  the  seat  were  a  mass  of  papers  and 
notes  which  would  occupy  him  for  many  months  to 
come.  Oh,  yes,  he  was  very  glad  he  had  been  to  Lon- 
don ;  ten  minutes'  conversation  with  a  person  was  far 
more  satisfactory  than  any  amount  of  correspondence. 

He  was  on  the  right  track  now,  that  he  knew. 
Very  soon  he  would  have  a  foothold,  and  then  he 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  147 

could  climb.  The  difficulty  was  to  get  a  start,  after 
so  many  wasted  years.  Eleanor  had  really  been  very 
good.  From  what  he  heard,  some  men's  wives  were 
most  tiresome  about  letting  their  husbands  go  away, 
and  were  always  making  demands  upon  their  time,  but 
he  felt  he  had  every  reason  to  be  thankful  that  Eleanor 
was  not  like  that;  she  was  most  sensible  about  his 
work. 

Then  his  thoughts  soared  off  to  the  distant  moun- 
tains of  attainment  whose  summit  he  would  soon 
reach.  His  mind  seethed  with  ideas  and  inspirations. 
He  felt  that  the  last  few  weeks  of  intercourse  with 
some  of  the  great  minds  of  the  day  had  been,  as  it 
were,  the  friction  necessary  to  cause  the  smouldering 
to  burst  embers  of  his  thought  into  spark  and  flame. 
He  was  keenly  looking  forward  to  reaching  home 
and  starting  work  again. 

On  the  whole,  Minnie  had  vastly  amused  him.  He 
was  too  good-natured,  perhaps  too  easy-going,  to 
mind  her  comments  on  his  appearance  and  her  high- 
handed way  of  improving  the  same.  Perhaps  body 
as  well  as  brain  had  become  rusty  during  his  sojourn 
abroad.  He  was  perfectly  willing  to  wear  short  hair 
and  new  clothes,  if  it  pleased  her ;  it  did  not  make 
any  difference  to  him.  He  was  equally  willing  to 
accompany  her  into  society  whenever  it  did  not  in- 
terfere with  his  numerous  appointments,  and  to  tell 
the  truth,  he  had  been  surprised  to  find  how  much 


148  TKEVOE,  LORDSHIP 

he  had  enjoyed  himself.  But  now  —  to  work !  —  to 
work!  —  that  was  his  one  idea. 

It  was  snowing  and  intensely  cold  when  he  reached 
Larnham  and  stepped  into  the  brougham  for  his 
homeward  drive,  but  he  hardly  noticed  the  weather ; 
he  was  busy  arranging  his  schemes  for  the  future. 
Occasionally  he  would  take  out  his  pencil,  and  jot 
down  a  few  words  on  a  slip  of  paper  by  the  dim  light 
of  the  carriage  lamps,  but  for  the  most  part  he  sat 
motionless  and  thoughtful. 

Eleanor  and  the  girls  were  sitting  by  the  hall  fire 
when  he  arrived,  and  Joan  flew  to  meet  him. 

"How  are  you  all?"  he  said  cheerfully.  "What 
a  cold  night ! " 

"  You  must  have  had  a  most  disagreeable  journey," 
said  Eleanor.  "  I  expect  you  are  half  frozen." 

"  Oh,  no !  How  cheerful  and  comfortable  you  look ! " 

"Jim  has  gone,"  said  Joan,  mournfully.  "He 
couldn't  stay,  but  he  says  he  will  come  back  again." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  not  to  see  him.  But  really, 
Eleanor,  I  was  so  busy.  There  were  so  many  things 
to  keep  me,  I  really  could  not  get  away  before." 

"  You  will  see  the  great  Jim  soon,"  said  Eleanor, 
smiling.  "  He  assured  us  he  would  come  back  be- 
fore long.  How  did  you  leave  your  mother  and 
Minnie  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  I  think.  Minnie  is  a  most  energetic 
person,  never  still  for  a  moment,  so  far  as  I  could  see. 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  149 

It  is  very  nice  to  be  back  home/'  he  added.  "  I  seem 
to  have  been  away  a  long  time." 

"  Lots  of  things  have  happened,"  said  Joan. 
"  Jenkins  is  dead,  and  the  stable  dog  has  got  six 
puppies." 

"  Jenkins  was  one  of  the  under  gardeners,"  explained 
Mildred. 

"How  are  you,  Eleanor?"  asked  Sir  Henry,  sud- 
denly looking  at  his  wife. 

"I -   "  she  stammered,  " I  am  very  well." 

To  her  annoyance  a  flush  suffused  her  face  from 
throat  to  temples  as  she  met  his  eyes.  She  was  ask- 
ing herself  in  bewilderment  what  had  happened  to 
her  husband  ?  He  was  extraordinarily  changed.  It 
was  not  only  the  alteration  in  his  appearance,  but  the 
whole  man  was  different.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
keenness  and  an  energy  about  him  which  had  been 
absent  before. 

And  then  she  realized  that  of  course  his  eyes  had 
been  hidden  before  by  his  glasses,  and  now  his  direct 
glance  embarrassed  her;  for  some  reason  which  she 
could  not  understand,  she  could  not  meet  it.  She 
was  furious  with  herself  for  blushing  like  a  girl,  and 
grateful  to  Joan  for  chattering.  It  gave  her  time  to 
recover  herself.  But  presently  the  girls  went  away, 
and  Sir  Henry  rose,  and  Eleanor  spoke.  She  felt  she 
must  say  something  to  put  an  end  to  her  awkward- 
ness. 


150  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  You  have  had  a  successful  time  in  London  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "  he  answered  warmly.  "  Splendid !  It 
was  most  interesting.  Harper  was  a  delightful  man, 
and  introduced  me  to  a  lot  of  people  I  wanted  to 
know.  I  am  to  write  a  series  of  articles  for  the 
'  Forum.' " 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  a  good  beginning.  The  great  thing  is  to 
get  in.  I  felt  so  hopelessly  out  of  it  before ;  but  now 
I  am  ready  and  anxious  to  get  to  work  again.  I  met 
several  publishers,  too,  and  Jackson  of  the  l  Courier.' 
You  see,  some  of  the  things  I  sent  home  have  kept 
a  place  warm  for  me,  in  a  way,  so  that  they  know 
pretty  well  what  my  subjects  are.  I  must  write  to 
Kohler  to-morrow,  and  tell  him  all  about  it.  I  found 
out  one  or  two  things  he  wanted  to  know,  too.  If  I 
get  regularly  on  to  the  l  Century,'  it  will  be  a  great 
thing.  Oh !  I  can  do  it  all  right  now." 

Eleanor  looked  at  him.  He  was  standing  in  front 
of  the  fire,  his  head  thrown  back,  his  eyes  bright  and 
eager,  his  whole  figure  instinct  with  self-confidence 
and  determination.  And  as  if  in  answer  to  her 
thought,  he  said  suddenly :  — 

"  It  is  not  every  one,  you  know,  that  has  a  second 
chance.  But  my  chance  has  come  to  me,  and  I  am 
going  to  take  it.  I  am  going  straight  on  now." 
And  then  he  added  rather  grimly,  "Nothing  shall 
turn  me  from  the  path  this  time." 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  151 

When  Eleanor  went  up  to  her  room  that  night,  she 
walked  to  the  window,  flung  it  wide  open,  and,  wrap- 
ping herself  in  a  fur  cloak,  she  sat  down  beside 
it. 

The  moon  was  shining  brightly,  shedding  its  beams 
over  the  snow  that  lay  like  a  pall  over  the  sleeping 
earth.  There  was  no  wind,  and  the  snow  had  ceased 
to  fall ;  all  nature  seemed  in  thrall  by  the  iron  hand 
of  Winter.  The  branches  of  the  cedar  on  the  lawn 
at  the  front  of  the  house  were  weighed  down  beneath 
the  weight  of  their  burden,  which  gleamed  and  scin- 
tillated in  the  cold  light,  like  thousands  of  tiny 
diamonds.  And  under  that  snowy  pall  lay  life  — 
slumbering  in  the  certain  hope  of  a  glorious  resur- 
rection. 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  temples,  which  were 
throbbing  painfully  with  the  excitement  of  her  brain. 

"  Were  hearts  like  that  ?  "  she  wondered.  "  Did 
hearts  sleep  through 'the  slow-moving  years  without 
sign  of  life,  until  they  were  quickened  by  the  myste- 
rious power  which  she  was  beginning,  in  a  vague  way, 
to  acknowledge  ?  Had  her  heart  slept  ?  And  was  it 
waking  now  ?  What  was  the  reason  of  this  quicken- 
ing of  her  pulse,  of  this  emotion  of  her  senses,  at  the 
sight  of  those  eyes  whose  look  rent  the  veil  of  memory 
in  a  moment  ?  "  And  again,  as  on  another  night  many 
months  before,  she  rose  and  crossed  the  room,  and  took 
the  old  photograph  in  her  hand.  She  studied  it  long 


152  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

and  earnestly,  and  again  the  slow  and  painful  colour 
suffused  her  face. 

Then,  for  a  moment,  a  sense  of  terror  seized  her  like 
the  strong  grip  of  an  unseen  hand.  What  was  this 
power,  the  force  of  whose  might  sounded  distantly, 
but  distinctly,  in  her  ears,  like  the  thunder  of  a  far- 
off  sea  ?  Was  the  first  wave  of  its  overwhelming  tide 
breaking  even  now  in  ripples  at  her  feet  ?  Was  there 
no  escape,  no  avoiding  of  the  advancing  flood  ?  She 
was  happy,  she  was  content,  and  she  feared  the  un- 
known. Might  it  not  pass  her  by  ?  And  then,  as  if 
in  immediate  answer  to  her  thought,  a  form  stood  out 
clearly  before  her  eyes  —  so  clearly  that  it  seemed  she 
had  but  to  stretch  out  her  hand  to  touch  it  —  and  a 
voice  said  again,  "  My  chance  has  come,  and  I  am 
going  to  take  it."  His  chance  of  what  ?  Of  life  ?  — 
or  fame  ?  —  or  something  more  ? 

It  is  curious  that  we  are  seldom  afraid  of  anything 
we  know.  The  familiar  thin^,  however  dangerous, 
always  loses  its  terror;  but  the  strongest  men  have 
been  driven  to  panic  by  a  thing  they  could  not  under- 
stand —  a  thing  that  seemed  to  them  unaccountable 
—  supernatural. 

Eleanor  was  no  weakling.  She  instinctively  re- 
sented at  first  the  thought  of  resigning  herself  to  the 
control  of  a  strange  influence.  She  had  walked 
through  life  as  a  path  which  had  run  between  certain 
well-defined  lines,  a  lane,  as  it  were,  with  hedges  and 


A  NEW  POINT   OF  VIEW  153 

trees  on  either  side;  but  now  it  was  leading  her  she 
knew  not  whither,  on  to  a  great  plain  where  there 
were  no  signposts,  and  no  familiar  landmarks  —  a 
strange  country ! 

But  gradually  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  night  had  a 
soothing  effect  on  her.  The  vast  beauty  of  nature, 
which  brings  home  to  us  the  futility  of  our  petty 
struggles  against  her  inevitable  laws,  and  strengthens 
us  with  a  measure  of  her  unchanging  strength ! 

"  After  all,"  she  thought,  "  whatever  came  to  her, 
there  was  no  reason  to  be  afraid.  She  was  here,  in 
her  proper  place,  in  her  home,  and  because  a  change 
took  place  in  herself  and  her  own  feelings,  it  would 
not  really  affect  her  life.  It  would  not  alter  the  daily 
routine  of  duties  and  pleasures  which  made  up  the 
sum  of  her  days,  or  influence  her  new  capabilities  of 
enjoyment,  her  new  joie  de  vivre." 

She  sat  on,  regardless  of  the  passing  hours,  and  her 
thoughts  were  pleasant.  They  were  more  of  the  past 
than  the  future,  for  now  that  the  veil  was  rent  she 
found  she  could  recall  so  much.  Recollections  that 
had  been  dim  before  stood  out  clear  and  bright,  fraught 
with  new  meaning.  Scenes  from  the  life  of  "  Sweet 
Nell "  of  long  ago  held  for  her  now  a  precious  person- 
ality. Words  that  had  been  spoken  once,  and  then 
forgotten,  returned  to  her  now  alive  with  new  and 
sacred  meaning,  as  a  seed  hidden  under  the  brown 
earth  awakes  at  the  caress  of  the  sun. 


154  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

When  she  sought  her  bed  at  last,  sleep  came  at 
once,  and  again  she  dreamed  her  dream.  Again  she 
saw  the  garden  with  its  wealth  of  flowers,  — Lilies  of 
Love's  purity  —  Roses  of  Love's  delight.  The  air  was 
clear  and  fragrant,  for  the  mists  of  years  had  rolled 
away.  The  door  stood  wide  open.  The  waiting  fig- 
ure was  no  longer  veiled,  and  the  face  was  the  face 
of  her  husband. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  SPRING 

"  The  holy  spirit  of  the  Spring 
Is  working  silently." 

—  GEORGE  MACDONALD. 

THE  winter  had  come  and  gone,  and  Spring  had 
touched  the  world  with  her  magic  wand,  clothing  bare 
fields  and  naked  boughs  with  leaf  and  blossom  at  her 
bidding.  The  air  was  full  of  her  elusive  perfume. 
The  horse-chestnut  raised  a  thousand  torches  to  a  cloud- 
less sky,  the  guelder  roses  danced  in  the  gentle  breeze, 
swaying  and  curtsying  as  if  to  some  measure,  the 
rhythm  of  which  was  audible  to  themselves  alone.  The 
rooks  in  the  elms  were  volubly  discussing  their  affairs, 
arguing  the  best  method  of  rearing  a  new  generation, 
and  apparently  finding  some  difnculty  in  arriving  at 
a  satisfactory  decision.  Mothers  are  the  same,  it  is 
presumable,  in  every  community;  the  younger  ones 
would  start  their  nursery  with  new  theories  which 
the  older  ones  would  consider  ridiculous,  and  have  no 
hesitation  in  condemning.  Also,  the  mothers-in-law 
would  feel  it  their  duty  to  express  their  opinion !  All 
this  naturally  leads  to  a  good  deal  of  conversation ! 

In  a  wicker  chair  under  the  great  tree  on  the  lawn 

155 


156  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

at '  Trevor  Lordship'  sat  Miss  Price,  her  mushroom  hat 
tied  firmly  under  her  chin,  her  stoutly  shod  feet  planted 
sturdily  in  front  of  her,  and  her  hands  clasped  on  her 
stick.  She  was  sitting  bolt  upright,  in  a  still  and 
uncompromising  attitude,  but  round  her  mouth  hov- 
ered a  little  crooked  smile,  full  of  tenderness. 

Circumstances  had  postponed  her  first  visit  to 
Eleanor's  home  until  now,  but  the  regular  corre- 
spondence between  them  had  kept  her  in  touch  with 
her  daily  life,  and  by  dint  of  reading  between  the  lines 
she  had  learnt  a  good  deal  more  than  had  been  told 
in  black  and  white.  At  this  moment  she  was  engaged 
in  what  she  herself  termed  "  summing  up  the  situa- 
tion." 

She  had  very  soon  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
Eleanor  Russell  loved  her  husband ;  that  her  feeling 
for  him  was  very  different  since  her  marriage.  For 
this  new  affection  showed  itself  in  a  hundred  little 
ways.  On  these  occasions  it  is  proverbial  that  on- 
lookers see  most  of  the  game,  and  Miss  Price  found  a 
certain  pathos  in  Eleanor's  attentions  to  her  husband. 
They  were  so  absolutely  wasted. 

Sir  Henry  was  not  the  man  to  notice  that  the 
flowers  on  his  writing-table  were  always  freshly  ar- 
ranged, that  his  blotting-paper  and  pens  were  always 
exactly  to  his  liking,  and  that  his  wife  was  ever  on 
guard  to  defend  his  working  hours  from  the  slightest 
disturbance.  He  took  all  these  things  for  granted. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  SPRING  157 

Eleanor  had  told  her  friend  quite  frankly  that  she 
was  perfectly  and  entirely  happy,  that  she  had  no 
wish  ungratified.  This  was  all  very  pleasant  as  far 
as  it  went;  but  in  Miss  Price's  opinion  it  did  not  go 
far,  and  did  not,  so  far  as  she  could  see,  ensure  any 
lengthened  duration  of  that  state  of  content. 

o 

"  Some  men  are  fools !  —  fools !  "  she  said 
angrily  at  last,  beating  the  turf  viciously  with  her 
stick,  more  to  emphasize  her  words.  Perhaps  some  of 
her  irritation  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  she  couldn't 
make  up  her  own  mind  as  to  what  she  wished  for 
Eleanor.  Would  it  be  happier  for  her  to  continue  in 
her  present  state  of  blindness,  or  to  arrive  speedily  at 
a  full  knowledge  of  the  situation  ?  Which  situation 
showed  signs  of  becoming  complicated !  The  old  lady 
frowned,  and  rose  from  her  chair,  as  Eleanor  and 
Roger  Bolding  came  out  of  the  house  together,  and 
walked  down  the  steps  on  to  the  lawn. 

"  All  men  are  fools  !  "  she  muttered,  changing  her 
previous  sentence  by  just  one  word. 

"  Have  you  seen  Henry  ?  "  asked  Eleanor.  "  Mr. 
Bolding  has  come  over  to  ask  him  about  that  French 
fencing,  and  he  generally  comes  in  from  his  walk 
about  this  time." 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Price.  "  I  have  seen  no  one 
except  Jim  and  Mildred,  who  were  putting  on  the 
lawn  a  little  while  ago." 

"  Isn't  this  a  heavenly  day  ?  "  said  Bolding,  sinking 


158  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

into  a  chair ;  "  even  Trevor  couldn't  spend  it  all  in- 
doors." 

"  He  was  writing  most  of  the  morning,"  said 
Eleanor,  with  a  smile. 

At  this  moment,  Joan  raced  across  the  lawn, 
closely  pursued  by  Jim,  while  Mildred  followed  at  a 
more  sedate  pace. 

"  Lady  Trevor,"  said  Jim,  plaintively,  "  have  you 
a  muzzle  anywhere  you  could  lend  me  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  haven't.     Is  it  for  Joan  ?  " 

"Yes.  Something  must  be  done.  My  hair  is 
rapidly  going  grey !  She  has  done  nothing  but  ask 
me  riddles  since  I  arrived  yesterday." 

"  I  don't  ask  riddles,"  said  Joan,  indignantly.  "  I 
only  ask  questions.  How  am  I  to  learn  things  if  no 
one  will  tell  me  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  now  ?"  asked  Roger. 

"  I  only  wanted  to  know  where  the  sausages  go  in 
the  summer?"  answered  Joan,  meekly. 

"  Great  Scott ! "  ejaculated  Roger.  "  A  conundrum ! 
I  give  it  up !  " 

"  I  only  wanted  to  know,"  repeated  Joan. 

Jim  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead  with  a 
look  of  despair. 

"  This  is  a  sample  of  the  kind  of  simple  question  I 
am  expected  to  answer  all  day  long." 

"  Sausages  go  with  the  Christmas  Tree  and 
Crackers,"  said  Miss  Price. 


THE   SPIKIT  OF  THE   SPRING  159 

"Do  they  really  ?  "  asked  Joan,  eagerly.  "  Do  you 
know,  you  are  the  only  person  who  has  ever  been 
kind  enough  to  answer  me.  It  is  so  trying  when  no 
one  will  answer  you  when  you  really  want  to  know. 
I  suppose  they  go  to  the  North  Pole  then." 

"  I  think  it  is  probable  that  the  polar  bears  enjoy 
them,"  continued  Miss  Price, "  until  the  icebergs  come 
south  and  bring  them  back  to  England  again." 

"  What  sport  did  you  have  with  the  salmon,  Jim  ?  " 
asked  Roger  Bolding. 

"  Very  fair  indeed,"  replied  Jim,  who  had  just 
returned  from  fishing  in  Scotland  for  a  fortnight,  in 
between  his  constant  visits  to  l  Trevor  Lordship ' ; 
"  mostly  grilse." 

"  What  are  grilse  ?  "  asked  Joan. 

Jim  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands  with  a  gesture 
of  distraction. 

"  Darling  child ! "  he  moaned,  "  more  conundrums ! " 

But  Roger  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  A  grilse,  Joan,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  is  a  debu- 
tant salmon  who  has  not  yet  done  his  Wanderjahr !  " 

Joan  stared  in  bewilderment.     Miss  Price  chuckled. 

"  Go  and  look  that  out  in  the  dictionary,  my  love," 
said  Jim,  sweetly. 

"  I  have  fished  those  waters,"  continued  Roger, 
"  but  not  until  later  in  the  year.  What  flies  did  you 
use  ?  "  and  he  and  Jim  plunged  into  details  of  fishing 
accessories. 


160  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  this  afternoon,  Aunt 
Eleanor  ?  "  asked  Mildred.  "  Jim  and  I  thought  of 
going  into  Larnham  to  fetch  the  evening  post." 

"  I  shall  be  walking  to  the  village  later ;  but  I  have 
no  particular  plans." 

"  Joan  is  going  to  take  me  round  the  farm,"  said 
Miss  Price ;  "  and  then  we  are  going  to  see  Lavender 
Hagger." 

"  Haven't  you  seen  her  yet  ?  "  asked  Roger.  "  You 
have  a  treat  in  store  for  you.  She  is  worth  going 
miles  to  see.  I  wish  there  were  better  accounts  of 
her  son-in-law ;  he's  a  real  wrong  'un." 

"  He  hasn't  been  getting  into  trouble  again,  has 
he  ?  "  asked  Eleanor,  anxiously. 

"  Well,  he  only  just  managed  to  clear  himself  when 
Mr.  Ford's  keeper  had  that  tussle  with  poachers  in 
December.  The  chap  is  always  poaching ;  and  one 
day  he'll  get  caught;  and  then  he'll  get  it  hot  enough, 
for  the  police  have  had  their  eye  on  him  for  years." 

"I  have  a  sympathy  with  poachers,"  announced 
Miss  Price. 

"  So  have  I,"  returned  Roger,  promptly ;  "  but 
this  man  hasn't  got  the  excuse  half  of  them  have. 
He's  a  skilled  blacksmith,  and  could  make  his  five 
and  twenty  shillings  a  week  if  he  chose.  He  wouldn't 
work  for  untold  gold;  he  prefers  to  loaf  and  poach 
and  steal." 

"  Poor  Bessie,"  said  Eleanor,  with  a  sigh. 


THE   SPIRIT   OF  THE   SPRING  161 

"  Yes,  poor  Bessie  !  but  she  went  into  it  with  her 
eyes  open." 

"  I  wonder  if  that  makes  any  difference  ?"  she  said, 
gently. 

"  It  was  awfully  funny  !  "  continued  Roger.  "  Last 
week  at  the  Bench  Sir  George  Lloyd  had  a  man  up 
before  him  for  poaching.  Well,  you  know,  Sir 
George  is  no  end  of  a  sportsman,  and  the  chap  knew 
it.  He  had  shot  a  pheasant  under  the  keeper's  nose, 
and  there  was  no  denying  it ;  but  knowing  Sir  George, 
he  said  in  excuse,  '  It  was  a  good  shot,  you  know,  Sir 
Geaoge  ! '  t  So  it  was  ! '  retorted  Sir  George,  quickly; 
1  a  d — d  good  shot,  but  you  get  a  month  for  it ! ' 
Every  one  roared  with  laughter,  including  the  man 
himself." 

"  I  do  hope  Bessie's  husband  will  keep  out  of  trou- 
ble," said  Eleanor,  presently,  "  for  Lavender's  sake." 

"  So  do  I ;  but  I  am  afraid  there  is  not  much  chance 
of  it." 

Mildred  and  Jim  disappeared  presently,  and  Miss 
Price  and  Joan  departed  for  their  tour  of  the  farm. 
Bolding  made  no  sign  of  any  desire  to  seek  Sir  Henry ; 
he  had  evidently  forgotten  the  matter  of  the  fencing, 
or  perhaps  it  was  not  important. 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  at  home  all  the  summer  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  love  this  place,  and  have  no  wish  to 
go  away,  even  for  a  day." 


162  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  It  is  looking  lovely  now." 

"  I  couldn't  bear  to  go  away  just  as  my  new  border 
was  in  bloom.  I  took  such  trouble  over  the  plant- 
ing." 

"  Jim  is  here  again." 

"  Yes ! "  Eleanor  smiled.  "  He  doesn't  seem  to 
do  much  work,  does  he  ?  But  he  told  me  last  night 
that  his  father  had  promised  him  an  assured  position 
in  the  business,  and  that  he  was  only  taking  a  holi- 
day before  settling  down  to  work." 

"  There  is  not  much  doubt  as  to  what  brings  him 
here." 

"  No !  there  is  not  much  doubt.  They  seem  very 
happy  in  each  other's  society." 

"  What  does  your  husband  say  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  He  has  never  mentioned  it  to  me ; 
I  don't  really  know  if  he  has  noticed  it." 

"  He  must  have  seen  it,  surely,"  said  Bolding,  in 
surprise.  "  He  would  have  stopped  it  months  ago  if 
he  had  not  approved .  It  would  be  hard  luck  on  them 
both  if  he  had  any  reason  against  it,  after  having  the 
boy  here  so  constantly." 

Eleanor  felt  certain  in  her  own  mind  that  the  idea 
of  Jim  as  a  suitor  for  Mildred's  hand  had  never 
crossed  Sir  Henry's  mind ;  and  Bolding's  words  pre- 
sented the  matter  in  a  new  light  to  her.  She  deter- 
mined that  she  would  speak  to  her  husband  about  it 
without  delay. 


THE   SPIRIT  OF  THE  SPRING  163 

"  It  isn't  likely  he'll  disapprove,  is  it  ? "  he  con- 
tinued. "  He  is  the  only  son  of  his  father,  who,  by 
all  accounts,  is  a  rich  man.  They  seem  very  devoted 
to  each  other.  The  only  thing  that  might  be  said  is 
that  he  is  too  young.  But  he  has  plenty  of  grit  in 
him,  has  Master  Jim,  for  all  his  larkiness.  You  are 
not  against  people  marrying  young,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No !  I  don't  think  so.  I  don't  quite  see  why 
they  shouldn't,  if  they  are  fond  of  each  other.  Long 
engagements  are  difficult  sometimes." 

Bolding  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"You  were  engaged  for  a  long  time,  weren't 
you?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Eleanor,  flushing.  "But  that 
was  different." 

She  did  not,  however,  explain  where  the  difference 
lay. 

"  All  the  world  seems  marrying  and  giving  in  mar- 
riage," he  continued,  after  a  pause.  "  Two  friends 
of  mine  have  written  to  tell  me  of  their  engagements 
this  week." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  the  next,"  suggested  Eleanor. 

"  No,  I  shall  never  marry." 

"  I  have  heard  that  the  people  who  say  they  won't 
marry  are  generally  the  first  to  do  so.  Perhaps  that 
will  be  the  case  with  you." 

"No,"  he  repeated  decidedly.  "I  shall  never 
marry." 


164  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  Oh,  you  will  when  you  meet  the  right  woman," 
returned  Eleanor,  confidently,  by  which  remark  it 
would  seem  that  her  ideas  on  the  subject  had  devel- 
oped considerably.  "  I  expect  you  haven't  met  her, 
or  you  would  have  done  so  before." 

"I  have  met  her,  but  meeting  is  not  everything," 
he  said  quietly,  so  quietly  that  Eleanor  did  not  ap- 
pear to  hear  him.  The  truth  was  that  her  thoughts 
had  flown  in  another  direction.  She  was  wondering 
whether  Henry  had  come  in,  and  whether  he  had 
slipped  into  the  house  without  meeting  her.  In  these 
days  she  found  herself  watching  constantly  and 
eagerly  for  him,  and  looking  forward  to  the  few 
words  which  passed  between  them  at  such  meetings. 
But  just  then  the  stable  clock  struck  four,  and  she 
knew  that  by  this  time  he  would  be  busily  engaged 
in  his  library.  He  was  absolutely  regular  in  his  hours, 
following  the  same  routine  from  day  to  day,  so  his 
movements  could  always  be  counted  on.  With  a 
strong  sense  of  disappointment,  she  turned  to  her 
companion,  trying  to  recollect  the  last  words  of  their 
conversation. 

Bolding  had  noticed  her  abstraction,  and  was  sit- 
ting looking  at  her.  There  was  a  moment's  pause, 
and  then  he  said. 

"  I  think  I  have  missed  Trevor.  He  has  gone  back 
to  work  now,  I  expect.  I  am  so  sorry." 

JEleanor  flushed  at  this  voicing  of  her  thoughts. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE   SPKING  165 

"  Yes,  he  will  be  at  his  writing  now.  He  said  he 
had  something  he  was  particularly  anxious  to  finish 
in  time  for  this  afternoon's  post." 

"  He  works  very  hard." 

"  Yes  !  "  she  answered  quickly.  "  He  works  very 
hard.  He  is  so  keen  about  it.  But  he  takes  plenty 
of  exercise,  really ;  he  is  up  very  early  in  the  morning, 
and  always  rides." 

"  Do  you  ride,  too  ?  " 

"No,  I  can't  ride.  I  wish  I  could,  but  I  have 
never  learnt.  I  think  he  likes  riding  alone,  for  I 
have  an  idea  he  plans  his  work  for  the  day.  I  know 
it  is  seldom  out  of  his  thoughts." 

"  He  must  have  been  awfully  out  of  it  abroad," 
said  Bolding.  "  I  wonder  he  stayed  so  long." 

"He  could  not  help  himself,"  replied  Eleanor, 
quickly.  "  After  fifteen  years  of  exile  it  is  no  won- 
der that  he  is  throwing  himself  into  it  with  zest  now. 
He  was  longing  all  the  time  to  come  home." 

"I  expect  old  Sir  Henry  would  be  pleased  if  he 
knew  how  much  his  library  was  appreciated,"  said 
Bolding,  lightly.  "He  was  tremendously  proud  of 
it,  and  used  to  take  the  books  down,  and  dust  them 
with  his  pocket  handkerchief.  I  have  seen  him  do  it 
scores  of  times.  I  don't  believe  he  ever  opened  one 
of  them,  though,  for  books  were  not  much  in  his  line. 
His  only  idea  was  hunting.  It  was  his  father  who 
collected  them,  you  know." 


166  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  No  one  could  possibly  appreciate  them  more  than 
Henry,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  He  told  me  he  almost 
grudged  a  moment  spent  away  from  them ! " 

A  curious  expression  flitted  for  an  instant  across 
Bolding's  face,  but  he  made  no  reply. 

"  I  do  feel  anxious  about  Bessie,"  Eleanor  said,  a 
little  later,  referring  to  their  previous  words.  "  Would 
it  be  any  good  getting  them  to  emigrate  ?  " 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,"  he  answered.  "Work 
would  not  be  any  more  attractive  on  the  other  side 
than  it  is  on  this.  If  you  like,  I  will  ride  over  to- 
morrow and  have  a  talk  with  him." 

"  Couldn't  he  take  a  game-keeper's  place  ?  I  have 
heard  that  poachers  make  rather  good  game-keepers." 

"  On  the  principle  of  '  set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief ' ! 
I  don't  know !  However,  I'll  find  him  to-morrow. 
They  are  camped  on  Bunton  Heath,  I  believe.  I 
can  easily  find  them.  I  will  come  over  and  tell  you 
the  result  of  my  visit." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke. 

"  That  really  would  be  kind,"  she  said.  "  I  would 
go  myself,  but  I  doubt  whether  Dobbs  would  be  agree- 
able to  my  taking  the  horses  so  far." 

"I'll  go,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "If  there  are  any 
further  little  jobs  I  can  do  for  you,  I  do  hope  you 
will  tell  me.  Honour  me  with  your  commands,"  he 
added,  with  a  jesting  bow. 

"  I  don't  think  I  have  any  other  commissions  at 


THE  SPIEIT  OF  THE  SPRING  167 

the  moment,"  she  replied,  laughing  at  his  manner. 
"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  trouble  about  it." 

"  Oh !  don't  talk  about  trouble,"  he  said  almost 
brusquely.  "  How  can  it  be  any  trouble  ?  It  is  a  very 
little  thing  to  do  for  y—  "  he  stopped,  and  changed 
his  tone  to  its  former  lightness.  "  It  is  just  a  pleas- 
ant excuse  for  a  ride.  That's  all.  Good-bye,  Lady 
Trevor ;  remember  me  to  your  husband.  I  am  sorry 
not  to  have  seen  him." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WORDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

"  O,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth 
Th'  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day. 
Which  now  shows  all  the  beauty  of  the  sun, 
And  by  and  by  a  cloud  takes  all  away  !  " 

—  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

u  WHAT  a  number  of  letters  by  this  evening's  post ! 
Who  brought  them  ?  "  asked  Sir  Henry. 

"Jim  and  I  walked  in  to  fetch  them,"  replied 
Mildred. 

"Well,  I  think,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  go 
and  attend  to  them.  I  am  rather  expecting  one  or 
two  which  I  know  will  require  an  immediate  an- 
swer." 

He  gathered  up  his  budget  as  he  spoke,  and  walked 
towards  the  library.  Dinner  was  just  over,  and  the 
rest  of  the  party  strolled  to  the  front  door. 

"  What  a  perfect  night !  "  said  Eleanor.  "  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  moon  ?  It  is  as  light  as  day." 

"  Come  out,"  said  Jim,  giving  a  general  invitation, 
but  with  his  eyes  on  Mildred. 

"  No,  thank  you !  "  answered  Miss  Price.  "  How- 
ever beautiful  it  may  look,  I  am  not  going  to  court 
rheumatism  in  my  old  bones !  You  may  go  and 

168 


WOEDS  AND  THEIR   MEANING  169 

court  each  other,  if  you  like.  You  are  young.  That 
makes  a  great  difference  !  " 

"  Put  on  something  warm,  if  you  are  really  going, 
Mildred,"  said  Eleanor.  "  I  am  sure  it  is  much  colder 
than  it  looks." 

"  Come  with  us,"  said  the  girl,  laying  her  hand  on 
Eleanor's  arm.  "  Do  come." 

"  I  think  I  will  content  myself  with  seeing  the 
beauty  of  the  night  from  the  drawing-room  window," 
was  Eleanor's  laughing  reply.  "  Now,  Jim,  you  must 
come  in  in  a  few  minutes,  and  don't  let  her  catch 
cold." 

He  wrapped  Mildred  in  a  big  fur  coat  which  was 
hanging  up  close  by,  and  together  they  strolled  down 
the  drive,  which  lay  like  a  silver  ribbon  in  the  brilliant 
light. 

"Well,  you  may  say  what  you  like,"  said  Miss 
Price,  decidedly,  as  she  pulled  up  her  skirts,  and 
tucked  her  feet  on  the  fender.  "  Moonlight  is  all 
very  well  for  young  people,  —  moon  and  mooning ; 
but  give  me  a  comfortable  chair  by  the  hearth,  after 
the  sun  has  gone  down." 

Eleanor  looked  at  her  with  affection,  as  she  stirred 
the  fire  into  a  blaze.  It  ought  perhaps  to  be  ex- 
plained that  the  mystery  of  the  mushroom  hat  had 
been  solved  on  the  first  evening  of  the  old  lady's 
arrival.  The  report  current  in  her  home  village  was 
that  she  slept  in  it;  but  this  proved  to  be  untrue, 


170  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

She  wore  in  the  place  of  it  a  small,  black  lace  man- 
tilla, arranged  over  her  snow-white  hair,  which  was 
drawn  high  over  a  cushion  in  an  old-fashioned  but 
extremely  becoming  style.  She  looked  very  charm- 
ing and  picturesque. 

"  It  is  nice  having  you  here,"  Eleanor  said.  "  I 
only  wish  you  could  stay  longer.  Only  another 
week,  and  the  last  one  has  gone  like  a  flash." 

"  I  wish  I  could  stay,  but  it  is  impossible.  I  have 
a  hundred  and  one  things  waiting  to  be  seen  to  at 
home.  But  I  do  enjoy  being  here,  and  shall  picture 
you  better  in  my  mind  now  that  I  know  your  house, 
and  all." 

"  It  is  a  delicious  house,  isn't  it  ? "  said  Eleanor, 
warmly.  "  There  is  something  friendly  about  it,  as 
if  all  the  generations  who  have  lived  in  it  had  each 
left  something  towards  the  home  feeling,  which  was 
bequeathed  as  a  legacy  to  future  inhabitants." 

" '  All  houses  wherein  men  have  lived  and  died 
Are  haunted  houses,' " 

quoted  Miss  Price,  softly. 

"  Yes,  that  is  just  it.  It  makes  such  a  difference 
when  you  feel  like  that.  Lots  of  people  wouldn't  in 
the  least  understand  what  I  meant.  Don't  you  re- 
member, a  little  further  on  in  the  same  poem,  Long- 
fellow says :  — 

" '  The  stranger  at  my  fireside  cannot  see 

The  forms  I  see,  nor  hear  the  sounds  I  hear, 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING  171 

He  but  perceives  what  is  —  while  unto  me 

All  that  has  been  is  visible  and  clear. 

We  have  no  title  deeds  to  house  or  lands ; 

Owners  and  occupants  of  earlier  dates 

From  graves  forgotten  stretch  their  dusty  hands 

And  hold  in  mortmain  still  their  old  estates ! ' 

I  was  reading  it  only  yesterday.  It  pleases  me  so 
much  to  think  of  other  people  who  have  lived  their 
lives  here.  Did  they  think  the  same  thoughts,  I 
wonder  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  her  friend.  "  I 
have  the  same  feeling  myself  for  my  little  old  cot- 
tage. I  wouldn't  live  in  a  new  house,  personally,  if 
you  paid  me  to  do  so.  Association  goes  for  so  much 
more  than  people  realize  in  these  busy  days.  You 
have  a  charming  home,  my  dear,  and  are  fortunate 
enough  to  be  able  to  appreciate  it.  Your  life  is  very 
full  just  now,  with  these  nice  young  people,  and  all." 

"  Yes ! "  returned  Eleanor ;  "  and  I  do  enjoy  it.  I 
think  I  must  have  got  into  a  very  stupid  state  before 
—  before  I  married ;  but  now  everything  is  quite  dif- 
ferent. I  wonder,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "if  it  is 
possible  for  a  heart  to  be  born  again  after  having 
been  dead,  or  at  least  withered  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  it  is,"  was  the  quiet  answer.  "  We 
know  a  soul  can  be  born  again ;  why  not  a  heart  ? 
But  there  must  be  birth-pangs,  my  child.  Nothing 
human  can  be  brought  to  life  without  labour  and 
pain.  Human  love  least  of  all." 


172  TKEVOB  LORDSHIP 

Eleanor  did  not  reply  for  some  time ;  she  sat  gaz- 
ing into  the  fire.  Then  she  began  to  speak  quickly, 
almost  as  if  compelled  to  against  her  will. 

"  I  could  not  understand  for  a  long  time  what  had 
made  the  difference ;  but  at  last  I  knew.  It  was  love. 
Did  I  love  Henry  when  I  was  a  girl,  long  ago  ?  I 
do  not  know.  But  I  do  know  now  that  love  shows  you 
everything  in  a  different  light.  You  live !  Without 
it,  or,  perhaps  I  should  say,  without  the  knowledge  of 
it,  you  don't  live,  you  only  exist.  I  have  learnt  so 
much  lately  —  I  am  humble  with  the  greatness  of 
it." 

And  all  the  time  Miss  Price  was  thinking  —  think- 
ing what  the  new  heart  of  hers  would  do  when  it 
grew  too  large  to  live  upon  itself,  and  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  another  heart  to  join  with  it  to  make  one  per- 
fect whole.  The  thought  of  it  gripped  her  with  a 
fierceness  which  was  like  physical  pain,  but  after  a 
while  her  practical  mind  reasserted  itself.  There 
was  nothing  she  could  do ;  she  must  leave  it  alone. 
It  would  be  cruelty  —  base,  useless  cruelty  —  to  tell  her 
that  human  love  is  crippled  —  maimed  —  unless  it 
finds  its  complement,  even  though  parting  follow 
swiftly.  No,  Eleanor  must  suffer  her  own  pain,  for 
life  and  death  are  the  two  things  which  no  one  may 
bear  for  another,  the  two  great  mysteries  which 
come  straight  from  the  hand  of  God  to  the  individual 
alone.  Friends  can  only  wait  and  pray. 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING  178 

Presently  Eleanor  asked,  "  Do  you  think  Mildred 
will  be  happy  with  Jim  ?  for  I  think,  he  wants  to 
marry  her." 

"  So  far  as  I  can  see,  she  ought  to  be.  I  like  the 
young  man.  He  has  that  blessed  inheritance,  a  cheer- 
ful temperament,  which  is  such  a  great  help  in  life. 
He  looks  a  clean,  honest  gentleman,  and  I  think  he  is 
really  fond  of  her.  Judging  by  appearances,  of  course." 

"  I  shall  speak  to  Henry  about  it  to-night.  Per- 
sonally, I  like  Jim  very  much,  and  I  do  want  Mildred 
to  be  happy.  There  is  Daudet  barking,  so  I  expect 
they  are  coming  in." 

She  rose  from  her  position  by  the  fire,  as  the  two 
young  people  entered.  Jim  came  straight  forward, 
holding  Mildred  by  the  hand. 

"  Lady  Trevor,"  he  said,  "  Mildred  has  promised  to 
be  my  wife.  Will  you  wish  us  well  ? " 

Eleanor  clasped  the  girl  in  her  arms,  while  Miss 
Price  said,  with  a  chuckle  :  — 

"  I  hope  you  don't  expect  us  to  be  surprised !  " 

"  I  do,"  answered  Jim ;  "  I  was  !  Though  of  course 
I  can't  say  I  had  no  hope." 

"  I  should  think  not !  "  she  retorted. 

"  I  do  hope  you  will  both  be  very  happy,"  said 
Eleanor,  warmly. 

"  I  know  I  shall  be,"  he  returned  ;  "  and  I  think  I 
can  make  her  happy.  At  all  events,  I  am  going  to 
have  a  very  good  try." 


174  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"I  am  going  to  bed,"  said  Miss  Price,  after  a 
while.  "  I  am  too  old  for  these  late  hours.  Bless 
you,  my  children,  and  good -night !  " 

Eleanor  sat  down  again,  and  had  a  long  talk  with 
the  lovers.  Jim  was  full  of  hopeful  plans  for  the 
future,  and  spoke  with  a  new  earnestness. 

"  When  my  father  gave  me  an  assured  position  in 
the  business,  I  stipulated  for  six  months'  holiday.  I 
have  worked  since  I  left  Harrow,  and  I  think  I  was 
entitled  to  it.  Also  it  was  always  Mildred,"  he 
said,  smiling ;  "  and  I  wanted  to  wait  until  she  was 
eighteen,  so  that  no  one  could  say  we  were  too  young 
to  know  our  own  minds." 

"  Doesn't  he  talk  as  if  he  were  fifty  ?  "  laughed 
Mildred.  "  He  is  only  six  years  older  than  I  am." 

"Six  years  make  a  vast  difference,"  he  insisted. 
"Don't  you  think  we  might  be  married  very  soon, 
Lady  Trevor  ?  and  then  we  could  have  our  honey- 
moon before  my  time  is  up.  I  suppose  I  could  not 
see  Sir  Henry  to-night  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no! "  cried  Mildred.  "He  doesn't  like  being 
disturbed  in  the  evenings.  It  will  be  much  better  to 
wait  until  to-morrow." 

"  I  can  '  understand  your  being  impatient ;  but 
really  I  think  you  had  better  wait  until  the  morn- 
ing." 

Eleanor  was  determined  to  see  her  husband,  and 
prepare  his  mind  for  the  interview. 


WOKDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING  175 

"And  will  you  let  Mildred  come  down  very  soon, 
and  see  my  people  ?  "  continued  Jim.  "  They  are 
awfully  fond  of  her,  and  I  know  they  will  be  awfully 
pleased." 

"  Of  course  she  shall  come.  I  am  sure  you  will 
want  to  take  her  to  your  mother  as  soon  as  possible." 

"I  think  I  had  better  go  home  and  tell  them 
myself,"  he  went  on.  "I  will  go  to-morrow  after- 
noon, after  I  have  seen  Sir  Henry.  I  will  come  back 
again  the  next  day,  if  I  may." 

"You  will  let  him  come,  won't  you,  Aunt 
Eleanor  ?  "  asked  Mildred.  She  spoke  so  pleadingly 
that  Eleanor  laughed.  There  was  no  doubt  of  the 
love  these  two  young  people  felt  for  each  other;  no 
one  could  deny  it  who  saw  them  together  now. 

"  Silly  child,"  she  said  tenderly,  "  of  course  he 
shall  come  every  day,  and  all  day.  Do  you  think  of 
setting  up  house  in  London  ?"  she  added. 

"  We  must,"  replied  Mildred,  "  because  of  Jim's 
work." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  have  to  get  Lady  Vernon's 
permission  too,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  By  Jove  ! "  said  Jim,  "  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
her.  Yes,  I  suppose  I  must.  But  there  won't  be 
any  difficulties.  There  can't  be.  My  darling,  we 
are  much  too  happy  to  think  of  difficulties." 

About  an   hour   afterwards,   Eleanor   opened   the 


176  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

library  door  gently,  and  walked  in.  The  room  was 
rather  dark,  except  just  where  the  two  shaded  lamps 
made  circles  of  light,  one  by  the  writing-table  and 
one  by  the  arm-chair  on  the  hearth.  A  big  bowl  of 
lilac  struck  a  pleasant  note  of  colour,  just  where  the 
rays  of  light  faded  into  the  dark  background  of 
books. 

She  shut  the  door  behind  her,  and  walked  a  few 
steps  forward.  She  was  always  conscious  of  a  feeling 
of  intrusion  when  she  entered  her  husband's  sanc- 
tum, and  was  rather  nervous  in  consequence.  Sir 
Henry  was  sitting  writing  at  his  table,  and  did  not  move. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  disturb  you,"  she  said;  "  but  can  I 
speak  to  you  for  a  moment  ?  " 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  he  said  absently,  stroking 
the  back  of  his  head  with  his  hand.  Eleanor  did  not 
notice  this  action,  or  she  would  have  realized  that  he 
was  worried  about  something. 

Eleanor  crossed  the  room,  and  stood  in  front  of 
him,  with  the  width  of  the  table  between  them. 

"  Can  I  speak  to  you  for  a  moment  ?  "  she  repeated 
gently. 

Sir  Henry  laid  down  his  pen,  and  pushed  his  chair 
back  from  the  table. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  about  Jim  and  Mildred.  No  doubt  you  have 
noticed  —  Jim  would  like  to  see  you  in  the  morning, 
to  ask  your  consent  to  their  engagement." 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING  177 

"  My  consent !  "  he  said  quickly.  "  I  shall  most 
certainly  refuse  ray  consent  to  any  such  nonsense. 
They  are  much  too  young.  I  had  no  idea  of  anything 
of  the  kind." 

"  Jim  is  very  fond  of  her,"  said  Eleanor,  shyly. 

Something  in  his  manner  alarmed  her,  and  she  felt 
she  was  not  putting  her  case  well.  Sir  Henry  rose 
suddenly. 

"  How  does  he  know  that  ?  What  does  a  boy  of 
that  age  know  of  his  feelings  ?  How  does  he  know 
whether  she  is  a  suitable  woman  to  make  a  home  for 
him  ?  How  does  he  know  if  he  wants  to  be  tied  to 
her  for  the  rest  of  his  life  —  at  his  age  ?  No  !  "  he 
said,  with  some  heat,  "I  cannot  give  my  consent." 
He  had  grasped  a  letter  in  one  hand,  and  was  striking 
it  with  the  other  to  emphasize  his  words.  "  I  do  not 
approve  of  early  engagements.  They  have  wrecked 
men's  lives  before  now." 

His  words,  and  the  feeling  with  which  they  were 
spoken,  fell  like  blows  upon  Eleanor's  heart.  Her 
face  turned  perfectly  white,  and  for  a  moment  the 
whole  room  seemed  to  whirl  round  her,  and  she  made 
a  clutch  at  the  edge  of  the  table  for  support. 

Sir  Henry  sat  down  again.  Slowly  Eleanor  turned 
and  walked  towards  the  door.  She  was  striving  with 
all  her  might  to  find  words  to  speak.  Mildred's  dream 
of  love  must  not  be  shattered  like  this,  if  it  was  pos- 
sible to  help.  She  must  make  an  effort  to  alter  his 


178  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

decision.  Her  fingers  had  closed  round  the  handle  of 
the  door,  when  she  turned,  and  stood,  still  holding  it, 
and  half  leaning  against  the  door;  her  white  face 
and  white  frock  outlined  on  the  dark  mahogany,  a 
bunch  of  violets  lying  like  a  blot  upon  her  breast. 
She  always  wore  violets  in  these  days.  Sir  Henry  did 
not  look  at  her ;  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  Pres- 
ently she  raised  her  head. 

"  There  is  something  I  must  say,"  she  said,  rather 
hoarsely,  but  quite  distinctly,  "  and  it  is  this.  Do  you 
think  that  it  is  just  to  have  had  Jim  Lucas  here  time 
after  time,  when  every  one  could  see  that  he  was  in 
love  with  Mildred,  and  then  to  refuse  your  consent  ? 
Would  it  not  have  been  kinder  to  have  forbidden  it 
months  ago  —  before  Christmas  ?  You  have  tacitly 
countenanced  the  affair  until  now,  and  now  you  would 
refuse  your  consent.  Is  it  just  ?  " 

Then  she  turned  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

"Eleanor,"  called  Sir  Henry,  but  she  made  no 
answer,  as  she  shut  the  door  quietly  behind  her. 

Sir  Henry  sat  with  his  head  on  his  hands  for  some 
time.  "Poor  lad!"  he  said  at  last.  "Poor  lad!" 
The  letter  he  had  been  holding  lay  on  the  table  be- 
fore him.  It  had  a  deep  border  of  black,  and  the 
envelope  which  lay  beside  it  bore  the  Australian  post- 
mark. 

Sir  Henry's  thoughts  were  bitter  ones.  "Poor 
Oscar  Glyn,"  he  was  thinking ;  "  if  ever  there  was  a 


WOKDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING  179 

boy  of  promise,  it  was  he.  Oh !  I  am  right  in  con- 
demning these  early  marriages.  Look  at  him,  married 
at  one  and  twenty  to  a  pretty,  feckless  girl  of  seven- 
teen, no  money,  no  prospects." 

He  thought  of  the  scenes  he  had  witnessed  the  last 
time  he  had  ridden  down  to  Glyn's  small  holding. 
The  poverty  and  untidiness  visible  on  all  sides.  The 
ailing  drab  of  a  woman,  scarcely  more  than  a  girl,  from 
whose  face  every  trace  of  comeliness  had  been  erased 
by  ill  health  and  discontent.  He  could  see  her  plainly 
now,  standing  in  the  dingy  room  with  an  infant  in 
her  arms,  while  four  other  children  crawled  or  sat 
about  on  the  floor. 

And  all  the  while  Oscar  Glyn  struggling  manfully 
against  overwhelming  odds,  against  the  knowledge 
that  the  woman  he  had  married  was  entirely  unsuit- 
able and  unfit  to  be  any  help  to  him  in  his  Colonial 
life ;  that  what  love  she  had  professed  for  him  had 
not  survived  the  first  breath  of  discomfort.  Could 
he  blame  her,  when  he  was  conscious  that  his  own 
was  waning? 

All  this  he  had  confessed  to  Trevor  —  who  could 
hear  the  man's  broken  voice  echoing  in  his  ears  now. 
And  —  here  —  to-day  —  was  the  end.  The  ringing 
down  of  the  curtain  —  Lights  out !  A  long  summer 
of  drought  and  fever  had  put  the  coping-stone  on 
his  misfortunes,  and  extinguished  the  last  spark  of 
his  courage ;  and  he  had  put  a  bullet  through  his  brain. 


180  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

It  was  the  piteous  letter  from  the  young  widow 
which  had  reached  Trevor  that  evening.  He  had 
been  fond  of  Glyn,  and  had  more  than  once  helped 
him  financially  since  his  return  to  England ;  and  at 
this  moment  a  stamped  and  addressed  envelope  lay 
beside  his  cheque-book  on  the  table. 

Presently  he  rose,  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down 
the  room,  thinking  of  Eleanor's  words ;  and  finally  he 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  was  right.  He  had 
been  to  blame  in  that  he  had  not  noticed  the  mean- 
ing of  Jim's  visits.  He  had  been  much  occupied ; 
and  although  he  had  seen  that  he  and  Mildred  were 
frequently  together,  he  had  attached  no  importance 
to  it.  Eleanor  was  right.  If  he  had  wished  to 
interfere,  he  should  have  done  so  sooner.  Well ! 
he  would  have  a  talk  with  the  boy  in  the  morning, 
and  thrash  the  matter  out,  and  do  his  best  for  them. 
Eleanor  had  seemed  anxious  about  it.  She  was 
evidently  in  favor  of  the  marriage,  and  he  would 
very  much  like  to  do  as  she  wished  about  it.  She 
had  left  the  room  hastily,  he  remembered ;  he  hoped 
he  had  not  spoken  very  abruptly,  but  his  mind  had 
been  full  of  the  tragedy  of  Oscar  Glyn's  wrecked  life. 

"I  hope  I  was  not  unkind  about  it,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  Is  it  possible  that  Eleanor  was  vexed 
about  it?  I  do  trust  not." 

It  never  for  one  moment  struck  him  that  his  words 
might  have  held  for  his  wife  another  and  very 


WORDS  AND  THEIR  MEANING  181 

natural  interpretation.  He  forgot  that  she  knew 
nothing  of  Oscar  Glyn.  He  was  one  of  those  men 
for  whom  their  personal  affairs  are  subject  to  no 
criticism,  and  do  not  come  within  the  range  of  any 
argument.  It  would  never  have  seemed  possible 
to  him  that  his  own  engagement,  dating  from  his 
twenty-fourth  year,  could  have  been  considered  to  be 
a  case  in  point.  But  he  was  conscious  of  a  very 
keen  desire  to  do  what  Eleanor  wished  about  it. 
He  would  like  to  please  her  in  this,  as  it  seemed 
that  she  had  set  her  heart  on  it.  He  returned  to 
his  writing  with  the  determination  to  arrange  the 
affair  in  the  best  way,  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XV 

LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM 

"  But  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream." 

—  MOORE. 

"  HE  was  awfully  nice  about  it  all,"  said  Jim. 
"  In  fact,  he  couldn't  have  been  nicer.  He  said  of 
course  that  we  must  wait  for  Lady  Vernon's  per- 
mission before  announcing  our  engagement,  but  that 
he  would  write  to  her  to-day." 

Jim  and  Mildred  were  walking  up  and  down  the 
path  under  the  great  stone  pine,  and  he  was  recount- 
ing his  interview  with  Sir  Henry. 

"  Did  Aunt  Eleanor  speak  to  him,  I  wonder?"  said 
Mildred.  "  I  think  she  meant  to ;  but  she  seemed 
so  tired  and  silent  this  morning  that  I  didn't  like  to 
ask  her.  Oh,  Jim!  —  I  was  so  afraid  Uncle  Henry 
objected,  and  that  she  didn't  like  to  tell  me." 

"  It  is  quite  all  right,  darling.  There  is  nothing 
to  worry  about.  There  is  no  earthly  reason  why 
Lady  Vernon  should  interfere.  Oh,  yes  !  I  am  sure 
Lady  Trevor  put  in  a  good  word  for  us,  because  Sir 
Henry  said  she  seemed  in  favour  of  our  marriage. 
You  know  the  booky  way  he  talks !  He  said  that 
personally  he  was  of  opinion  that  we  were  too  young, 

182 


LOVE'S  YOUNG  DEEAM  183 

and  talked  to  me  a  lot  about  the  necessity  of  our 
thoroughly  weighing  the  matter.  He  asked  whether 
we  were  sure  we  knew  our  own  minds,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  As  if  there  could  be  any  doubt  about 
that !  "  added  Jim,  with  youthful  scorn.  "  Then 
he  talked  a  little  business,  and  I  was  able  to  satisfy 
him  about  that.  He  really  was  awfully  jolly  at  the 
end.  I  liked  his  coming  out  to  you  in  the  hall,  and 
saying  he  hoped  we  should  both  be  very  happy,  didn't 

you?" 

"  I  have  always  liked  Uncle  Henry,  he  has  been  so 
kind  to  us  since  we  came  here.  Of  course  he  is  very 
quiet,  and  doesn't  join  much  in  the  things  we  do,  but 
he  never  speaks  crossly  or  worries.  Now  you  would 
never  think  twice  about  anything  you  wanted  to  say 
to  Aunt  Eleanor.  She  would  always  understand  ex- 
actly what  you  meant.  Jim!  do  you  think  your 
people  will  be  pleased  ?  " 

"  Silly  little  girl ! "  he  said  tenderly.  "  How  often 
are  you  going  to  ask  me  that  ?  Of  course  they  will 
love  you.  They  do  already  !  No  one  could  help  it. 
Dear  old  Mum !  It  seems  rather  a  stupid  thing  to 
say,  but  she  would  be  pleased  at  anything  I  was 
pleased  at.  Besides,  they  must  have  guessed  how  it 
was." 

"  Dear  old  Jim  ! "  she  said.  "  You  are  such  a  nice, 
happy  person.  I  wish  I  was  more  like  you  —  always 
certain  that  everything  is  going  to  be  all  right." 


184  TKEVOR  LOEDSHIP 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not !  When  I  do  get  down  in  my 
luck,  I  am  down  to  the  depths  — bed  rock  !  But  now 
I  have  got  you,  sweetheart,  that  is  never  going  to 
happen  again.  We  shall  be  happy  every  day  of  our 
lives.  Now,  dearest,  the  carriage  will  be  round  in 
ten  minutes.  This  is  our  good-bye,  for  I  suppose  I 
must  not  kiss  you  at  the  station !  It  might  scandal- 
ize the  porters  !  Not  that  I  should  care  much,"  —  he 
laughed  in  his  frank,  boyish  way.  "  Good-bye,  my 
little  wife  that  is  to  be.  Remember  we  belong  to 
each  other  for  always,  and  don't  worry  your  dear 
little  head  about  anything." 

"  You  will  come  back  soon,"  she  whispered.  "  The 
time  will  be  long  until  you  come  back." 

"  To-morrow  if  I  possibly  can ;  if  not,  the  next  day." 

They  lingered  over  their  last  words,  as  lovers  will, 
all  the  world  over,  until  Joan  came  flying  down  the 
path  at  her  usual  breakneck  pace. 

"  You  must  come,  you  two !  There's  Dobbs  just 
getting  on  the  box  to  drive  round.  Come  along! 
May  I  drive  with  you  to  the  station  ?  " 

"  You  may  sit  in  front  with  Dobbs,  and  if  you  are 
very  good,  perhaps  he  will  let  you  hold  the  end  of 
the  reins  !  "  said  Jim. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hold  the  end  of  the  reins !  I  am 
not  a  baby  !  "  returned  Joan,  with  some  heat.  "  Why, 
I  drove  the  pair  all  myself  the  other  day,  only  that 
was  with  William.  I  think,"  she  added,  dropping 


LOVE'S   YOUNG  DREAM  185 

her  voice  confidentially,  "  that  Dobbs  is  just  a  tiny 
bit  jealous !  He  doesn't  seem  to  like  other  people  to 
drive  his  horses  while  he  is  there.  He  must  know 
I  can  drive.  I  have  told  him  I  am  quite  to  be 
trusted." 

"  I  think,  on  the  whole,  I  rather  agree  with  Dobbs," 
laughed  Jim. 

Joan  was  in  a  great  state  of  excitement  over  the 
engagement,  To  have  her  beloved  Jim  as  a  real 
brother  was  a  truly  delightful  thing.  The  only  point 
which  exercised  her  mind  was,  whether  she  should  go 
and  live  with  them  when  they  were  married.  If  she 
did  so,  it  would  mean  leaving  Uncle  Henry  and  Aunt 
Eleanor,  and  Dobbs!  She  felt  torn  both  ways,  but 
Mildred  assured  her  that  there  was  no  reason  to  de- 
cide the  question  at  present. 

"  I  can't  think  what  is  the  matter  with  Aunt 
Eleanor,"  said  Mildred,  as  they  drove  away.  "  She 
does  seem  so  unlike  herself." 

"  Perhaps  she  has  got  a  headache,"  suggested  Jim. 
Manlike,  he  felt  that  this  was  the  explanation  of 
every  feminine  mood. 

"  Do  you  think  she  and  Uncle  Henry  have  had  any 
—  well  —  disagreement  ?  I  have  never  even  heard 
them  contradict  each  other,  so  I  hardly  think  it  can 
be  that.  I  do  hope  she  will  be  better  to-morrow." 

Jim  was  so  full  of  high  hopes  and  good  spirits 
that  he  really  could  not  feel  any  interest  even  in 


186  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Lady  Trevor,  whom  he  much  admired.  His  whole 
thoughts  were  of  Mildred  and  their  mutual  happi- 
ness, and  their  talk  turned  in  that  direction. 

He  had  plenty  of  time  to  think  during  his  journey 
in  the  train.  As  he  had  said  to  Mildred,  he  had  no 
fears  for  the  future.  What  should  he  fear  ?  His 
parents  were  always  ready  to  give  him  his  own  way ; 
they  had  never  denied  him  anything  in  his  life ;  there 
was  no  reason  to  suppose  that  they  would  wish  to 
begin  now.  He  knew  his  mother  wanted  him  to 
marry ;  she  had  told  him  so  repeatedly. 

How  odd,  really,  that  Sir  Henry  had  brought  so 
many  arguments  to  bear  against  their  engagement ! 
He  had  not  told  Mildred  all;  but  it  was  a  fact.  At 
the  commencement  of  their  conversation  he  had 
plainly  said  that  he  was  inclined  to  disapprove  ;  and 
yet  as  Jim  had  frankly  answered  his  numerous  ques- 
tions, he  had  quite  come  round,  and  had  finally  been 
"  awfully  nice  about  it." 

"  I  expect  we  have  to  thank  Lady  Trevor  for  it, 
really,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Why !  he  was  engaged 
himself  for  many  years,  at  least  so  I  have  heard,  and 
he  isn't  so  wonderfully  old  now."  And  then  he 
thought  of  Mildred,  and  started  building  castles  in 
that  enchanted  land  which  man  and  maid  enter  hand 
in  hand  with  the  first  words  of  avowed  love,  and 
where  no  one  may  follow,  for  it  is  Holy  Ground. 

Jim  had  only  spoken  the  truth  when  he  had  said 


LOVE'S  YOUNG  DKEAM         187 

to  Eleanor  that  "  it  was  always  Mildred."  Ever  since 
the  day  he  had  first  seen  her,  a  slight  slip  of  a  girl  of 
sixteen, —  old  and  perhaps  grave  beyond  her  years  by 
reason  of  her  mothering  of  little  Joan, — he  had  thought 
of  no  other  woman.  He  had  determined  to  win  her 
for  his  wife,  and  had  set  his  face  steadily  towards  the 
goal  of  his  hopes.  He  had  lived  for  her,  and  for  her 
love ;  and  now  it  had  been  granted  to  him,  and  though 
humble  in  his  heart  towards  her,  as  all  true  lovers 
should  be,  he  was  certain  of  his  power  to  ensure  her 
future  happiness. 

He  had  realized  that  it  would  only  be  courting 
opposition  to  propose  to  her  before  he  was  in  an 
independent  position.  His  father  had  never  stinted 
him  in  the  way  of  money,  but  Jim  had  liked  to  feel 
that  his  own  brain  and  hands  would  provide  the 
wherewithal  to  start  his  married  life.  He  did  not 
wish  to  be  entirely  dependent,  even  on  his  father's 
bounty,  but  now  he  had  felt  he  could  honestly  ask 
Mildred  to  share  his  lot.  At  the  same  time,  he  knew, 
of  course,  that  he  might  rely  on  his  father  to  supply 
the  jam  for  the  bread  and  butter ! 

It  was  late  that  evening  before  he  reached  Wimble- 
don, and  the  station  fly  turned  into  the  gates  of  Mr. 
Lucas's  house, ( Grove  Lodge.'  It  was  approached  by 
the  usual  suburban  carriage  drive,  bordered  on  either 
side  with  shrubs.  By  dint  of  numerous  turns  and 
twists,  the  ingenious  person  who  had  laid  out  the 


188  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

gardens  had  given  more  importance  to  the  "  drive  " 
than  it  deserved.  The  house  stood  within  fifty  yards 
of  the  high  road,  but  by  dint  of  serpentine  windings 
round  small  plantations  of  evergreens  and  miniature 
forests  of  larch-trees,  the  distance  was  trebled.  In 
fact,  Mrs.  Lucas  considered  it  quite  a  long  walk  to 
the  gate. 

The  house  itself  was  noticeable  for  want  of  taste 
on  the  part  of  the  builder.  It  was  an  example  of 
"  early  Victorian "  ugliness  inside  and  out,  but  un- 
doubtedly well  appointed  and  comfortable.  Neat 
little  muslin  blinds,  with  neat  little  brass  strips  at  the 
top  of  them,  blinked  like  so  many  welcoming  eyes  from 
its  many  windows.  The  substantial  porch  possessed 
the  most  elaborate  appliances,  which  dumbly  insisted 
that  no  one  would  be  so  thoughtless  as  to  take  any 
mud  on  to  the  spotless  doorstep,  while  the  large 
cocoanut  mat  displayed  the  magic  word  SALVE,  in 
bold  red  letters.  Even  Mrs.  Lucas's  hospitable  mind 
could  think  of  nothing  further  to  provide  for  the 
comfort  of  her  guests. 

As  Jim  entered,  his  father  walked  out  to  meet  him, 
already  dressed  for  dinner.  He  was  a  big,  broad- 
shouldered  man,  with  a  snow-white  beard  and  hair, 
and  a  kindly  expression.  Although  nearly  seventy, 
he  held  himself  very  erect,  as  if  the  years  weighed 
but  lightly  on  him. 

"  There  you  are,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  just  in  time 


LOVE'S   YOUNG  DREAM  189 

for  dinner  !  Hurry  up  and  have  a  wash;  you  needn't 
dress.  Mother  is  glad  to  have  you  back  again." 

"  Right  you  are  !  I  shan't  be  a  minute,"  responded 
Jim,  as  he  ran  up  the  stairs  two  steps  at  a  time. 

Mr.  Lucas  rejoined  his  wife. 

"He's  come,  Mother!"  he  said  cheerfully,  "alive 
and  well.  No  railway  accidents,  and  no  runaway 
horses!" 

Mrs.  Lucas  hoisted  herself  from  the  depths  of  a  huge 
saddle-bag  arm-chair. 

"  Well ! "  she  said,  panting  slightly, "  you  never  know, 
do  you  ?  People  want  to  go  so  fast  these  days  that 
things  are  always  happening.  I  never  look  in  the 
papers  without  seeing  that  some  one  has  been  killed, 
and  I  always  think  it  might  be  Jim  !  It  is  enough  to 
make  any  one  nervous.  There!"  she  said,  "come 
along,  Father,  I'm  ready ! " 

One  of  the  chief  sorrows  of  Mrs.  Lucas's  later  life 
was  her  excessive  size.  She  was  enormously  stout ; 
and  this,  combined  with  a  rheumatic  tendency,  made 
her  movements  slow  and  difficult.  She  fondly  hoped 
that  her  deliberate  progression  gave  an  idea  of  dignity ; 
but  she  was  exceedingly  good-natured,  and  was  quite 
ready  to  laugh  at  herself,  as  a  cushion,  and  a  moun- 
tain, and  other  such  playful  terms. 

By  the  tune  she  had  reached  the  door,  Jim  arrived, 
and  she  folded  him  to  her  capacious  bosom  with  de- 
monstrative affection.  Then  they  proceeded  to  din- 


190  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

ner,  and  during  the  meal  she  plied  him  with  questions 
as  to  his  doings,  his  health,  etc. 

It  was  not  until  the  dessert  had  been  placed  on  the 
table,  and  the  servants  had  left  the  room,  that  he  was 
able  to  impart  the  great  news  that  trembled  on  his 
lips.  He  began  to  feel  a  little  nervous  about  it.  The 
thought  struck  him  that  never  again  would  they  three 
sit  there,  as  they  had  sat  for  so  many  years,  all  family 
ties  complete  in  one  another.  His  heart  and  life 
would  be  elsewhere.  It  seemed  suddenly  hard  on  the 
old  parents.  He  hesitated  for  a  choice  of  words,  and 
then  he  said :  - 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you  dear  people.  I  know 
you  will  be  pleased  at  my  happiness,  and  I  am  very, 
very  happy.  Mildred  has  promised  to  marry  me." 

"  Dearest  boy !"  ejaculated  his  mother.  "  I  am  de- 
lighted; I  can't  tell  you  how  delighted  I  am." 

Jim  looked  at  his  father,  waiting  for  him  to  speak. 
Mr.  Lucas's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  wife  with  an  in- 
scrutable expression. 

"You  are  very  young,  my  boy,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  It  is  a  great  responsibility." 

"  I  know,"  said  Jim,  gravely.  "  I  have  thought  of 
all  that.  Sir  Henry  Trevor  said  I  was  too  young  at 
first;  but  afterwards  he  gave  his  consent.  I  do  hope 
you  will  do  the  same,  Father,"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  Mildred,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  You  should  be  proud  to  have  won  her." 


LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM         191 

"  Dear  child  !"  murmured  Mrs.  Lucas. 

"  I  am  proud,  more  proud  than  I  can  say.  We  love 
each  other,  and  I  think  I  can  make  her  happy;  that 
is  the  chief  thing." 

"Well,  well!"  said  his  father,  "I  had  no  idea  that 
you  were  old  enough  to  think  of  being  married.  The 
years  pass  so  quickly.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  fore- 
seen this." 

"  Young  people  will  be  young  people,"  said  Mrs.  Lu- 
cas, with  a  beaming  smile;  "  and  I  must  say  there  is 
no  one  I  should  have  liked  better  for  your  wife  than 
Mildred,  whom  I  have  known  from  a  child." 

"  I  was  sure  you  would  be  pleased.  Mildred  was 
wondering  how  you  would  welcome  her,  but  I  knew 
you  loved  her  already." 

"When  do  you  think  of  being  married ? " 

"As  soon  as  possible,"  replied  Jim,  promptly. 
"  There  is  no  reason  why  we  should  wait,  that  I  can 
see." 

"  You'll  come  and  live  close  to  us,  won't  you  ?"  she 
suggested.  "  There  is  a  nice  little  house  in  Cecil  Road 
to  be  let,  not  ten  minutes'  walk  from  here.  I  saw  the 
board  up  this  morning,  and  Mrs.  Davies,  who  was 
having  tea  with  me,  told  me  she  knew  of  a  very  good 
cook  wanting  a  situation.  I'll  write  to  her  to-morrow." 

Jim  laughed,  and  his  father  said :  — 

"  Wait  a  little,  Mother.  You  are  going  too  fast ! 
The  date  isn't  fixed  yet." 


192  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  Lady  Vernon  must  be  consulted  first,"  said  Jim. 
"  She  is  Mildred's  other  guardian,  you  know ;  but  I 
hope  she  will  be  nice  about  it." 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  can  be  otherwise,"  declared 
Mrs.  Lucas,  bridling  like  an  old  hen  whose  chicken 
has  been  attacked.  "  You  will  have  plenty  to  keep 
a  wife,  and  you  have  known  Mildred  for  years. 
What  more  can  a  woman  want  ? " 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  said  his  father,  rising,  "  I  approve 
of  your  choice,  and  agree  with  Mother  that  you 
couldn't  have  done  better.  I  own  I  was  surprised  at 
first,  for  we  old  folks  don't  always  see  that  the  young 
ones  are  growing  up." 

Mrs.  Lucas  was  already  furnishing  her  son's  house 
in  her  own  mind.  "  There's  that  blue  dinner  service," 
she  said  to  herself,  as  she  rolled  into  the  drawing-room  ; 
"  Jim  always  has  been  fond  of  that.  Old  things  are 
better  than  you  can  buy  nowadays ;  that  will  do 
them  nicely.  Then  there's  a  pile  of  good  table-cloths 
I  have  got  put  away,  double  damask,  they  are,  with 
never  a  sign  of  wear."  When  she  reached  her  chair, 
she  took  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pencil  from  a  table 
beside  her,  and  began  to  make  elaborate  calculations, 
as  to  what  domestic  articles  would  be  required  for 
the  new  house. 

Jim  and  Mr.  Lucas  laughed  when  they  saw  her 
occupation,  but  she  answered  good-humouredly  :  — 

"  Ah !  this  is  the  mother's  job.     Who  is  to  do  it 


LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM         193 

for  you,  if  I  don't !  The  silver  we  started  with  will 
do  them  nicely  for  a  while.  They  could  have  that, 
couldn't  they,  Father  ?  Jim  would  like  to  have  what 
we  started  with  ourselves." 

"  We  shall  not  get  a  word  out  of  her,  Jim,"  said 
his  father,  still  laughing.  "  We'll  go  and  have  our 
talk  out  in  the  library,"  and  taking  his  son's  arm,  he 
marched  him  off,  leaving  the  old  lady  to  her  plans 
for  the  future. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

"  I  am  not  now 
That  which  I  have  been." 

—  BYRON,   Childe  Harold. 

"AT  what  time  did  you  leave  'Trevor  Lordship'?" 
asked  Mr.  Lucas,  as  they  lit  their  cigars,  and  sat  down 
in  his  comfortable  room. 

"  About  twelve  o'clock,"  returned  Jim.  "  They've 
put  on  a  good  train  now  in  the  middle  of  the  day." 

"  How  odd  it  seems  !  Why,  I  remember,  when  I 
was  a  young  man,  before  I  left  England,  if  you 
wanted  to  get  to  Larnham,  you  had  to  take  the  coach 
at  Townborough,  where  the  junction  is  now.  No  one 
thought  of  the  railway  being  carried  farther  in  those 
days.  —  Did  you  touch  upon  money  matters  in  your 
conversation  with  Sir  Henry  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  a  certain  amount,  —  what  you  allowed 
me,  and  what  I  drew  from  the  firm.  He  seemed  to 
be  quite  satisfied.  I  didn't  know  what  you  would  be 
prepared  to  do  in  the  way  of  settlements." 

Mr.  Lucas  took  out  a  pencil,  and  jotted  down  some 
figures  on  his  shirt-cuff. 

"Roughly   speaking,   about    thirty    thousand.      I 

194 


A  BOLT  EEOM  THE  BLUE  195 

should  think  you  could  settle  about  thirty  thou- 
sand." 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you,"  said  Jim,  gratefully. 

"  I  believe  in  making  a  good  provision,"  replied 
his  father;  and  then  he  plunged  still  further  into 
financial  details. 

"I've  very  nearly  unloaded  in  British  Columbia 
now,  and  put  it  all  into  securities  at  home.  I  don't 
want  any  anxiety  about  money  in  my  old  age.  The 
business  is  right  enough,  and  will  go  on  paying  just 
as  long  as  you  have  honest  agents,  and  no  longer.  I 
have  sometimes  thought  of  sending  you  over  there ; 
but  I  didn't  want  to  part  with  you.  So  I  made  a 
little  pile  outside,  which  will  be  plenty  for  you  and 
yours.  Things  have  altered  since  I  was  young.  I 
can't  keep  up  with  the  rush  now,  so  I  am  glad  to 
stay  safely  outside  it.  But  there  will  be  plenty  for 
you.  I've  tied  it  up  quite  tight." 

Jim  tried  to  keep  his  thoughts  on  the  subject  on 
hand,  but  all  the  while  they  were  flying  back  to 
Mildred.  His  mother's  words  had  brought  things 
very  near  to  him.  He  could  hardly  believe  in  his 
great  happiness.  Was  it  true  that  the  little  home 
she  had  spoken  of  would  really  soon  exist  ?  He  had 
no  idea  that  it  was  possible  to  feel  so  happy.  The 
world  had  always  been  a  jolly  good  place,  but  now  it 
was  flooded  with  a  golden  light ;  not  one  thing  would 
he  wish  different. 


196  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Then  he  came  back  to  the  present,  to  find  that  his 
father  had  ceased  speaking,  and  was  sitting  with  his 
hands  on  his  knees  in  an  attitude  of  abstraction.  It 
was  not  his  wont  to  look  so  serious,  and  Jim  felt  a 
little  surprised.  There  was  something  unusual  in  his 
expression. 

"  I  can't  thank  you  enough,  father,"  he  said. 
"You  are  awfully  kind." 

Mr.  Lucas  made  no  reply,  but  after  a  while  he 
rose,  and  relighted  his  cigar,  which  had  gone  out. 
Then  he  turned,  and  threw  his  head  up  with  the 
sudden  action  of  a  man  who  has  come  to  a  decision, 
and  said  quickly :  — 

"  There  is  something  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you, 
Jim.  I  have  wished  to  do  so  several  times  in  your 
life,  but  I  have  allowed  myself  to  be  overruled  by 
your  mother.  I  think  if  I  had  realized  that  you  were 
old  enough  to  think  of  matrimony,  I  should  have  in- 
sisted upon  telling  you  before.  Not  that  it  is  any- 
thing that  will  make  the  slightest  difference  to  your 
life  or  your  prospects ;  I  can  promise  you  that ;  but  I 
think  you  ought  to  know." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Jim,  nervously.  He  wished 
his  father  would  come  to  the  point,  but  the  old  man 
seemed  to  find  a  difficulty  in  doing  so. 

"  I  can  promise  you  it  will  make  no  difference  in 
your  prospects,"  he  repeated.  "  I  have  made  my  will 
most  carefully,  and  provided  for  every  contingency." 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE   BLUE  197 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  what  it  is  ?  " 

Jim  was  trying  to  shake  off  a  feeling  of  dread,  a 
premonition  of  coming  trouble  which  was  creeping 
over  him.  Again  there  was  a  pause.  Mr.  Lucas 
stood  holding  his  cigar  and  gazing  at  the  end  of  it 
as  if  to  draw  inspiration  from  its  smouldering  heart. 
Then  he  said  slowly :  — 

"  You  are  my  adopted  son." 

"  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean?"  Jim  thought 
for  a  moment  that  his  father  had  lost  his  reason. 

"  You  are  my  adopted  son,"  he  said  again.  "  The 
circumstances  were  as  follows.  We  came  back 
from  British  Columbia  in  1880.  Your  mother  had 
never  borne  a  child,  could  never  bear  one ;  and  was 
half  broken-hearted  about  it.  We  had  only  been 
home  a  few  days,  and  were  staying  at  an  hotel 
near  Victoria  Station,  when  we  were  awaked  by  a 
cry  of  fire.  We  dressed  and  went  out.  It  was  a 
house  in  Ebury  Street  which  was  burning.  You 
were  saved,  and  we  took  you  home  with  us.  Every 
one  else  was  burned,  and  the  house  was  completely 
gutted.  I  advertised,  and  did  all  I  could  to  find 
your  relatives,  but  without  success.  Your  mother 
and  nurse  were  believed  to  have  been  among  the 
victims  of  the  disaster;  but  beyond  that,  I  know 
nothing." 

Jim  sat  staring  at  the  speaker.  His  face  had 
turned  very  white. 


198  TREVOR,  LORDSHIP 

"  Then  who  am  I  ? "  he  asked,  in  a  curiously 
strained  voice. 

"  You  are  my  dearly  loved  son,"  said  the  old  man, 
stoutly,  "just  as  you  have  been  all  along." 

The  solid  ground  seemed  to  be  crumbling  away 
beneath  Jim's  feet ;  he  was  vainly  trying  to  regain 
his  balance.  Where  was  he?  Who  was  he?  He 
couldn't  understand.  He  hardly  heard  the  speaker 
in  the  tumult  of  his  mind. 

"  We  had  only  just  come  back  from  abroad,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Lucas ;  "  and  no  one  among  our  few 
friends  ever  doubted  but  what  you  were  our  own  son, 
born  while  we  were  out  there.  Among  the  hotel 
people  and  the  police  who  knew,  of  course,  it  was 
a  nine  days'  wonder,  and  then  forgotten.  I  provided 
for  the  burial  of  the  poor  dead,  and  a  few  days  after- 
wards a  man  brought  us  a  desk  which  had  been 
saved  from  the  room  where  you  were  found.  It 
was  quite  empty ;  the  contents  had  evidently  been 
stolen.  I  have  all  the  papers  which  reported  the 
affair ;  you  can  see  them  if  you  like." 

And  still  the  same  question  was  beating  like  a 
hammer  in  Jim's  brain :  "  Who  am  I  ?  Who  am  I  ?  " 
He  looked  wildly  round  the  familiar  room ;  he  had  no 
business  to  be  there !  He  was  an  interloper !  His 
eyes  fell  upon  a  large  print  of  Frith' s  '  Derby  Day,' 
which  hung  over  the  mantelpiece.  The  picture  had 
held  a  peculiar  fascination  for  him  ever  since  he  could 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE        199 

remember,  particularly  the  little  figure  in  the  fore- 
ground. Ah !  —  that  was  it !  A  mountebank !  A 
nameless  mountebank,  that  was  what  he  was.  Play- 
ing a  part  —  pretending  to  be  the  only  son  of  a  rich, 
respectable  father,  when  all  the  time  he  hadn't  even 
a  name  of  his  own !  He  rose  from  his  chair,  clutch- 
ing at  the  arm  of  it  to  steady  himself  as  he  did  so. 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  had  left  me  in  the  gutter 
where  I  belonged ! "  he  said  fiercely,  between  his 
clenched  teeth. 

For  a  moment  the  old  man  recoiled  at  the  bitter- 
ness in  his  tone,  then  he  laid  his  hand  gently  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Boy !  Boy  !  "  he  said  soothingly,  "  what  has  come 
over  you .?  Don't  say  a  thing  like  that.  You  are  my 
dearly  loved  son  ;  nothing  can  alter  that." 

"  It  is  a  lie  !  "  cried  Jim,  furiously.  "  You !  calling 
yourself  an  honest  man,  have  brought  me  up  never 
to  tell  a  lie ;  and  all  the  time  you  were  living  one, 
and  letting  me  live  one.  Letting  me  masquerade  as 
the  son  of  a  gentleman,  when  all  the  time  I  am  a 
nameless  nobody.  Letting  me  win  Mildred's  love 
under  false  pretences.  Oh,  God  !  —  " 

He  threw  himself  down  again  in  his  chair,  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Mr.  Lucas  tottered 
where  he  stood,  and  feebly  passed  his  hand  across  his 
eyes  as  if  to  brush  away  some  delusion.  He  had 
grown  ten  years  older  in  as  many  minutes. 


200  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  You  are  my  son,"  he  repeated  stubbornly.  "  My 
dearly  loved  son." 

They  sat  there,  as  they  had  sat  so  often,  on  either 
side  of  the  familiar  hearth,  —  they  who,  in  spite  of 
the  disparity  in  their  ages,  had  been  such  friends, 
such  pals,  divided  now  by  a  gulf  of  misery  which 
yawned  at  their  feet.  The  clock  ticked  the  leaden 
minutes  with  slow  deliberation,  until  sixty  of  them 
had  been  recorded.  Neither  spoke.  Then  Jim 
rose. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said  formally,  and  walked  tow- 
ards the  door. 

"  Jim !  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  Jim !  don't  go  like 
that ! " 

For  a  second  the  ghost  of  a  smile  crossed  Jim's 
face,  such  a  wan,  heart-broken  attempt  at  reassur- 
ance, but  he  spoke  no  word,  and  the  door  shut  with 
a  dull,  hopeless  reverberation. 

He  passed  up  the  stairs,  and  entered  his  room. 
Without  turning  on  the  light,  he  flung  himself  face 
downwards  on  the  bed.  Then  something  gave  way 
in  his  brain,  and  in  the  quiet  of  the  dark  room  there 
came  the  dreadful  sound  of  a  man's  uncontrollable 
sobbing.  Where  were  his  dreams  for  the  future  ? 
Withered  and  dead  as  last  year's  roses.  What  of 
that  little  house  which  had  filled  his  thoughts  (al- 
ready it  seemed  years  ago)  ?  already  it  had  fallen  to 
its  very  foundations,  as  a  house  built  upon  the  sand. 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE  201 

He  had  been  so  proud  of  his  father,  so  proud  of  his 
line  of  sturdy,  North  Country  ancestors  —  not  nobly 
born,  it  is  true  —  but  honest,  God-fearing  gentlemen, 
such  as  have  been  for  centuries  the  backbone  of  Eng- 
land —  and  he  had  no  part  or  lot  in  them  !  Only  one 
thing  stood  out  clear  among  chaos,  and  that  was 
that  in  honour  he  must  give  up  all  thought  of  Mil- 
dred. He  had  not  even  a  name  to  give  her.  He 
might  even  be  base-born  !  —  he  ground  his  teeth  to- 
gether at  the  thought.  No,  they  must  part  —  his 
dream  was  shattered ;  he  must  get  used  to  the  idea. 
Her  love  must  be  put  on  one  side,  with  all  the  other 
precious  things  of  the  past.  Her  beauty  was  not 
for  him.  Those  sweet  intimacies  of  married  life 
which  he  had  dared  to  picture  could  never,  never 
be.  He  must  see  her  once  more,  he  must  hold  her 
once  more  in  his  arms,  and  then  he  must  go  out  into 
the  darkness  —  alone. 

Mrs.  Lucas  came  to  the  end  of  her  pleasant  task, 
and,  glancing  at  the  clock,  discovered  that  the  hour 
was  past  'eleven.  Hoisting  herself  to  her  feet,  she 
proceeded  to  the  library  door,  where  she  listened  for 
a  moment.  She  did  not  wish  to  disturb  a  private 
conversation,  although  in  her  opinion  it  had  lasted 
long  enough.  There  was  no  sound  to  be  heard,  and 
she  walked  in. 

"  Why,  Father  !  "  she  cried,  at  the  sight  of  her  hus- 


202  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

band;  "are  you  ill?  And  wherever  is  Jim?  My 
dear,  my  dear !  whatever  is  the  matter  ?  " 

The  old  man  slowly  raised  his  lined  face. 

"  I  have  told  him,"  he  said  simply ;  "  and  he  has 
taken  it  badly." 

"Told  him  what?" 

"  Told  him  of  his  adoption." 

Every  trace  of  colour  faded  from  Mrs.  Lucas's 
large,  round  face. 

"  You  have  told  him ! "  she  stammered.  "  How 
could  you  be  so  cruel  ?  " 

"  It  was  right  to  tell  him,"  protested  the  old  man 
feebly ;  "  and  it  can't  make  any  difference." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  enquired  his  wife  in  a  fright- 
ened whisper. 

"  He  said, i  I  wish  to  God  you  had  left  me  in  the 
gutter  where  I  belonged.' ' 

Mrs.  Lucas  gave  a  moaning  cry.  Slowly  her  eyes 
filled ;  the  large,  fat  tears  coursed  one  another  down 
the  terraces  of  her  many  chins,  and  splashed,  un- 
heeded, on  her  black  satin  bosom.  She  raised  no 
hand  to  wipe  them  away. 

"  You  have  done  a  cruel  thing,"  she  moaned,  in 
broken  accents.  "  Oh,  Frederick  !  Frederick !  he  was 
mine,  my  very  own ;  and  you  have  taken  him  away 
from  me.  He  knew  no  mother  but  me !  I  have 
nursed  him,  and  fondled  him,  and  prayed  for  him, 
and  reared  him.  The  other  woman  only  bore  him ! 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE  208 

What  is  a  year  or  two  of  babyhood  against  all  the 
precious  time  of  childhood  and  boyhood  ?  He  is  mine 
-  my  very  own !  " 

"  I  did  not  know  he  would  take  it  like  this,"  said 
Mr.  Lucas,  in  a  quavering  voice. 

The  two  old  people  gazed  at  each  other  through  a 
mist  of  tears. 

"I  shall  go  to  him,"  she  said  at  last.  "He  has 
always  wanted  me  in  his  little  troubles." 

She  pulled  herself  up  the  stairs  with  infinite  diffi- 
culty —  one  step  at  a  time.  It  was  the  first  time  she 
could  remember  for  years  that  either  Jim  or  Frederick 
had  not  helped  her  up  in  the  evening;  and  all  the 
while  she  was  thinking  —  thinking. 

She  turned  towards  her  boy's  'room,  and  then 
changed  her  mind,  and  entered  her  own.  "  The 
beads  are  prickly  to  the  face,"  she  murmured,  as  she 
divested  herself  of  her  elaborate  dress,  all  satin  and 
bugles  and  jet,  and  arrayed  herself  in  a  soft  old 
wadded  silk  dressing-gown.  It  was  very  unbecom- 
ing, but  it  had  associations  ;  trouble  and  sickness  had 
always  been  comforted  in  the  old  red  dressing-gown. 
That  tear  on  the  breast,  which  showed  plainly  in  spite 
of  careful  darning,  had  been  made  by  Jim's  teeth, 
when  they  had  set  his  leg  four  years  before !  He 
had,  as  she  had  said,  always  wanted  her  in  his  little 
troubles. 

All  the  mother  love  was  fiercely  awake  in  the  heart 


204  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

of  the  woman,  transfiguring  her  plain,  homely  face 
with  a  new  power,  which  was  near  akin  to  the  Divine. 

The  inscrutable  wisdom  of  God  had  ordained  that 
she,  endowed  beyond  most  women  with  the  capacity 
for  maternal  affection,  should  be  barren;  but  to  her 
starved  heart  and  empty  arms  He  had  sent  this  little 
child.  If  she  had  borne  him,  he  could  not  be  more 
hers ;  she  had  told  herself  this  over  and  over  again  in 
the  first  great  joy  of  his  possession ;  for  had  she  not 
been  singled  out  of  all  the  women  in  the  world  to 
mother  him  ? 

He  was  her  baby ;  no  one  should  take  him  from 
her.  She  would  fight  the  world  for  him,  if  needs  be, 
but  she  would  keep  him.  God  give  her  strength  to 
keep  him !  She  was  praying  with  all  her  soul  as  she 
made  her  slow  way  along  the  corridor,  and  without 
knocking,  turned  the  handle  and  entered  his  room. 
She  turned  on  one  shaded  light,  and  glanced  towards 
the  bed  where  Jim  was  lying,  motionless,  inert,  spent 
with  the  storm  of  emotion  through  which  he  had 
passed.  She  did  not  speak,  but  struck  a  match  and 
lit  the  fire  ;  the  nights  were  chilly  still,  and  she  knew 
that  what  must  be  spoken  between  them  could  not 
be  said  in  an  hour,  or  even  two.  When  the  blaze  had 
fairly  started,  she  pushed  a  sofa  up  near  the  hearth, 
and  having  thus  completed  her  preparations,  she 
moved  towards  the  bed. 

Jim's  face  was  hidden  on  his  folded  arms,  and  she 


A  BOLT   FROM   THE   BLUE  205 

laid  her  hand  on  his  head,  gently  stroking  the  rumpled 
hair  with  a  loving  touch.  Presently  he  moved  a 
little. 

"  It  is  mother,"  she  said  softly. 

He  raised  a  drawn,  white  face. 

"  You  are  not  my  mother,"  he  said  huskily ;  and  his 
face  went  down  again  with  a  groan.  The  iron  had 
entered  deep. 

The  old  lady  did  not  reply.  She  was  praying  that 
she  might  be  guided  in  her  choice  of  words.  She  con- 
tinued the  soothing  movement  with  her  hand  for  a 
while,  and  then  she  said  :  — 

"  You  are  cold,  dear  lad ;  will  you  not  come  to  the 
fire  ?  There  are  things  I  must  say  to  you." 

Gently,  and  with  loving  words,  she  roused  him,  and 
drew  him  to  the  sofa,  where  they  sat  down  side  by 
side. 

"  Boy,"  she  said,  reverting  to  the  old  name  of  child- 
hood, "  we  have  done  you  wrong.  I  see  it  now ;  but 
will  you  hear  my  story  before  you  turn  from  me?  I 
had  been  married  nearly  twenty  years,  and  we  loved 
each  other  truly,  my  husband  and  I ;  but  we  had  no 
child.  Night  and  day  I  stormed  the  doors  of  Heaven 
with  my  prayers,  but  without  avail.  I  do  not  know 
how  much  you  have  been  told,  so  I  will  tell  the 
story  in  my  own  way. 

"Soon  after  we  arrived  in  England  from  British 
Columbia  I  saw  a  doctor,  who  told  me  I  could  never 


206  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

have  a  child ;  and  I  think  I  went  nearly  mad  with 
grief.  One  night,  when  I  was  lying  worn  out  in  my 
bed  at  the  hotel,  I  heard  a  cry  of  l  Fire,'  and  started 
up  in  fear.  Father  woke,  and  we  ran  to  the  window. 
We  could  see  a  house  blazing  a  little  way  away.  I 
could  not  tell  what  drove  me,  but  I  had  to  go ;  even 
Father  could  not  stay  me,  though  I  was  weak  and  ill; 
but  when  I  saw  you  carried  down  the  ladder  from  the 
blazing  house,  just  as  the  roof  fell  in,  I  knew  that 
God  had  sent  me  in  answer  to  my  prayer.  Father 
told  me  afterwards  that  I  fought  my  way  through 
the  crowd  like  a  mad  woman,  until  I  had  you  in  my 
arms,  and  my  empty  heart  was  filled. 

"  We  thought  you  were  about  four  years  old ;  and 
you  were  very  ill  for  a  long  time,  but  gradually  you 
grew  strong,  and  brave,  and  beautiful.  I  had  only 
one  terror,  and  that  was,  that  some  one  might  claim 
you ;  but  it  faded  as  the  months  went  by  without  a 
word.  Father  thought  it  right  to  advertise,  but  no 
one  answered.  You  could  not  speak,  and  seemed 
to  remember  nothing;  the  doctors  said  it  was  the 
shock. 

"  We  taught  you  from  the  beginning,  from  your 
first  lisping  word ;  and  ever  since  then  you  have  been 
my  own  child,  my  very  own  God-sent  child.  Can  you 
understand  that,  my  darling  ?  " 

Jim  said  no  word,  and  made  no  movement. 

"When  you  went  to  school,"  she  continued,  "your 


A  BOLT  FEOM  THE  BLUE  207 

father  wished  to  tell  you,  but  I  begged  him  not.  I 
had  almost  persuaded  myself  that  you  were  mine  in 
very  truth,  and  he  gave  in.  He  would  never  have 
told  you  to-night,  but  that  he  has  grown  feeble  of  late. 
I  have  noticed  it  in  many  ways ;  he  is  not  the  man  he 
was,  and  he  did  not  understand. 

"  The  wrong  to  you  was  not  in  keeping  silence,  but, 
having  kept  silence  for  so  long,  to  have  spoken  now. 
Father  did  not  understand;  he  thought  it  could  make 
no  difference." 

"  Make  no  difference !  "  said  Jim,  suddenly.  "  No 
difference !  Oh,  no,  only  the  difference  between 
Heaven  and  Hell !  " 

"  Why  so  ?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Because  I  have  lost  everything  I  held  dear  —  my 
love  —  my  name  —  everything.  How  can  I  marry 
Mildred  now  ?  " 

"  You  must  tell  her,  of  course  ;  but  having  told  her 
honestly,  it  will  make  no  difference  to  her  love.  You 
may  be  sure  of  that." 

"  But  how  can  I,  in  honour,  ask  her  to  share  my 
life,  when  I  don't  even  know  who  I  am  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  going  to  proclaim  that  upon  the 
housetop,"  was  the  shrewd  reply.  "  You  will  have 
the  same  position  as  you  have  always  had ;  the  same 
position  you  had  when  you  won  her." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  interrupted  Jim. 

"  And  anyway,  you  are  a  gentleman ;  that  is  plainly 


208  TREVOR,  LORDSHIP 

to  be  seen  on  the  face  of  you,  —  an  honest,  upright 
gentleman,  as  God  made  you." 

"  I  cannot  marry  her  until  I  have  at  least  a  name 
to  offer  her." 

"You  have  a  very  good  name  which  was  given 
you  at  your  baptism ;  it  is  your  own."  Mrs.  Lucas 
was  fighting  every  inch  of  the  way.  "  Mildred  loves 
you,  and  all  will  be  well." 

"  I  will  find  out  the  truth,"  Jim  broke  out  hotly. 
"  There  must  be  some  clue,  some  means  of  finding  out." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  she  said. 

"There  was  a  desk, wasn't  there?  Can  I  see  it? 
Does  it  tell  you  nothing  ?  " 

"  I  will  fetch  it,"  she  said,  rising. 

She  returned  presently  with  it  in  her  hands,  and 
seated  herself  as  before.  It  was  an  old-fashioned  box 
of  inlaid  rosewood,  bound  with  brass.  It  opened  to 
a  slant.  Mrs.  Lucas  unlocked  it. 

"I  had  the  key  fitted,"  she  explained.  "It  was 
empty  and  broken  when  it  came.  The  fireman  said 
it  was  in  the  room  where  you  were  found."  She 
took  out  a  bundle  of  newspaper  cuttings.  "  These 
are  the  accounts  of  the  fire ;  they  are  very  short ;  you 
can  read  them  by  and  by.  There  was  one  piece  of 
writing  which  I  didn't  find  until  a  long  time  after, 
between  the  blotting-paper.  I  said  nothing  about  it, 
for  it  seemed  unimportant,  and  also  perhaps  I  dreaded 
the  whole  discussion  should  be  renewed.  Here  it  is." 


A  BOLT  FEOM  THE   BLUE  209 

It  was  a  single  sheet  of  thin  foreign  note-paper, 
bearing  some  lines  of  writing  in  a  fine  feminine  hand. 
The  ink  was  faded,  but  the  words  were  legible. 

November  20th,  1880. 

MY  VERT  DEAR  HUSBAND,  —  I  must  add  a  few  lines  to  my 
budget.  I  have  reached  London  safely,  and  went  to  an  Hotel, 
but  left  at  once,  as  I  heard  they  had  a  case  of  smallpox.  These 
lodgings  will  do  very  well  for  two  or  three  days,  until  we  go 
West.  The  new  nurse  is  pleasant,  and  Baby  seems  already 
better  for  the  change  of  air.  I  think  of  you  always,  dear 
husband ;  the  days  of  separation  are  so  long.  I  long  to  hear 
from  you,  but  know  it  is  impossible.  All  these  letters  will  be 
sent  so  as  to  reach  you  when  the  .  .  .  breaks. 

Good-night. 

"  I  can't  read  the  word  before  '  breaks ' ;  can  you  ?  " 
said  Jim. 

"  No;  I  have  never  been  able  to  make  it  out.  You 
see,  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  called  a  clue." 

"  My  mother  must  have  written  this." 

Mrs.  Lucas  winced.  There  had  been  times  when 
jealousy  of  the  unknown  woman  had  eaten  into  her 
heart's  core;  she  felt  the  old  wound  even  now,  but 
she  answered  steadily :  — 

"  Yes,  that  must  have  been  written  by  your 
mother." 

"  Was  there  no  mark  on  my  clothes  ?  " 

"  You  had  only  a  flannel  night-gown.  I  have  it 
now;  there  was  no  mark." 

He   unfolded  the  papers,  and  read  the    contents. 


210  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

The  accounts  were  meagre;  the  affair  had  evidently 
roused  no  particular  interest.  It  mentioned  that 
through  the  kindness  of  a  private  gentleman,  the 
dead  had  been  interred  and  the  sole  survivor  provided 
for.  There  were  three  women  burnt,  presumably 
the  mother,  the  nurse,  and  the  landlady,  Mrs.  Wil- 
liams. The  servant  slept  out.  The  bodies  could  not 
be  identified. 

"It  was  nearly  twenty  years  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Lucas. 
"  if  it  was  not  possible  to  find  out  anything  then,  it 
will  be  doubly  impossible  now." 

"  I  must  find  out,"  said  Jim,  grimly.  "  All  my 
happiness  depends  on  it.  I  have  lost  everything. 
You  don't  understand." 

The  despair  in  his  voice  broke  down  her  self-control. 

"  Oh,  Boy,  Boy ! "  she  cried,  in  passionate  appeal, 
"  never  doubt  our  love  —  whatever  happens,  never 
doubt  our  love.  We  are  the  same  as  we  always 
have  been,  and  always  will  be,  Father  and  I. 
All  our  hopes  and  all  our  love  are  centred  in  you. 
My  dear  !  my  dear !  don't  turn  from  us  now ! " 

Her  words  pierced  through  the  fog  w^hich  seemed  to 
be  clouding  Jim's  brain.  It  was  true.  He  knew  it. 
She  had  given  him  a  mother's  love  ;  no  mother  could 
have  loved  more  fondly  or  have  been  more  fondly 
loved ;  and  she  could  never  change.  Here  was  one 
piece  of  solid  ground  among  the  chaos.  He  turned 
with  a  quick,  boyish  gesture,  and  threw  his  arm 


A  BOLT   FROM   THE  BLUE  211 

round  her,  while  from  his  lips  came  the  word  for  which 
her  whole  heart  was  hungering. 

"  Mother ! "  he  cried.     "  Mother !  " 

She  drew  his  head  down  until  it  rested  on  her 
breast. 

"  My  son  !  "  she  murmured,  with  infinite  tenderness. 
"  Always  my  dear,  dear  son." 

The  first  pale  gleams  of  the  dawn  were  stealing 
into  the  room  before  they  rose.  Comfort  had  come 
to  Jim's  soul,  such  comfort  as  only  a  mother  can  give. 
He  felt  calm  and  strengthened. 

They  had  discussed  the  matter  from  every  side, 
over  and  over  again,  quietly  and  systematically.  He 
saw  his  way  clearly  before  him  now,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  very  far  distance,  gleamed  one  little  ray  of 
hope.  He  was  unaltered  in  his  decision  that  he  must 
give  Mildred  back  her  promise ;  that  he  felt  bound  in 
honour  to  do ;  but  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  knew  that 
love  would  triumph  over  difficulty,  that  some  day  the 
clouds  would  break,  and  the  sun  would  shine  again. 
How,  he  did  not  know ;  but  he  would  live  for  that 
day,  in  the  present  darkness. 

"  Dear  Mother,  you  must  go,"  he  said  at  last 
tenderly.  "I  cannot,  will  not,  try  to  thank  you  for 
what  you  have  done  for  me  to-night.  Let  me  help 
you  to  your  room." 

He  did  so,  and  she  kissed  and  blessed  him  sol- 
emnly as  they  parted,  for  she  knew  that  he  was  hers. 


212  TKEVOR  LOEDSHIP 

in  very  truth  he  was  hers,  but  with  this  difference : 
he  was  a  man  now,  a  boy  no  longer.  And  while  her 
whole  soul  was  uplifted  with  thankfulness  that  all 
was  well  between  them,  and  she  rejoiced  in  the 
strength  of  the  man ;  yet,  woman-like,  she  wept  a 
little  for  the  boy  whom  she  adored,  and  who  was 
gone  from  her,  never  to  return. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  MISSING  WORD 

"  White  as  a  white  sail  on  a  dusky  sea 
When  half  the  horizon's  clouded,  and  half  free," 
Fluttering  between  the  dun  wave  and  the  sky, 
Is  hope's  last  gleam  in  man's  extremity." 

—  BYRON. 

"  HAVE  you  heard  from  Jim,  Mildred  ?  "  asked  Sir 
Henry. 

It  was  after  dinner  the  next  evening,  and  they 
were  all  seated  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  No !  "  said  Mildred.  "  I  thought  I  should  have 
had  a  telegram.  He  said  that  perhaps  he  might  not 
be  able  to  come  until  to-morrow." 

"  You  will  have  a  letter  in  the  morning,"  said  Miss 
Price,  consolingly.  "  Engagements  are  a  great  source 
of  income  to  the  Inland  Revenue  !  I'll  be  bound  you 
wrote  to  him  to-day.  Now,  didn't  you?" 

Mildred  blushed  happily. 

"Well!     Yes,  I  did."  ' 

"  Then  it  would  certainly  be  a  pity  if  he  had  come 
to-day,  and  missed  the  letter !  "  laughed  the  old  lady. 

Her  merriment  was  a  little  forced,  but  it  passed 
unnoticed.  She  was  racking  her  brains  to  find  a 
reason  for  a  certain  change  which  had  taken  place  in 
Eleanor.  It  was  rather  a  subtle  change,  but  plainly 

213 


214  TEEVOE  LOKDSHIP 

visible  to  her  loving  eyes;  for  instead  of  the  new 
brightness  and  animation  which  Eleanor  had  shown 
of  late,  she  had  relapsed  into  something  akin  to  her 
former  state  of  chilly,  self-controlled  calm.  She 
seemed  to  be  putting  a  strong  restraint  upon  herself, 
as  if  she  were  determined  to  act  in  everything  in  her 
usual  natural  way.  If  anything  had  occurred  to 
distress  her, — and  Miss  Price  felt  sure  that  this  was  the 
case, — she  was  evidently  forcing  herself  to  disregard  it. 
Her  friend  could  not  form  any  idea  as  to  the  trouble ; 
she  had  asked  if  she  felt  indisposed,  and  had  received 
the  answer,  "  Thank  you,  I  am  perfectly  well,"  given 
in  such  a  tone  as  prohibited  further  enquiries.  Miss 
Price  was  not  a  woman  to  force  confidences,  and  had 
perforce  to  contain  her  anxiety  as  best  she  might. 

Eleanor  had  seemed  both  surprised  and  relieved 
when  Mildred  had  told  her  of  Sir  Henry's  consent  to 
their  engagement.'  She  could  not  understand  his 
volte-face  after  his  words  to  her,  but  that  did  not 
prevent  her  being  very  thankful  at  the  course  events 
had  taken. 

Sir  Henry  and  Captain  Maitland,  who  was  dining 
there  that  night,  were  indulging  in  political  argument. 
The  radical  ideas  which  the  former  had  held  in  his 
young  days  had  been  considerably  modified  by  the 
passage  of  time;  but  he  laughingly  refused  to  enlist 
under  the  banner  of  any  party,  and  this  attitude  was 
the  cause  of  many  a  hot  discussion.  The  Captain 


THE  MISSING  WORD  215 

called  himself  a  staunch  Conservative,  and  was  al- 
ways ready  to  do  battle  with  any  one  who  could  not, 
or  would  not,  accept  his  views  en  bloc. 

"  You  want  to  throw  all  legislative  power  into  the 
hands  of  the  masses,"  he  was  saying.  "It  won't  do, 
Trevor ;  it  won't  do." 

"  It  is  only  fair  that  the  larger  proportion  of  the 
community  should  have  a  large  share  in  the  manage- 
ment of  it,"  said  Sir  Henry,  good-humouredly. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !  "  was  the  retort.  "  They  don't 
know  what  to  do  with  power  when  they  have  got  it. 
They've  never  been  used  to  it;  they  weren't  in- 
tended for  it;  they  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it. 
Why !  my  dear  fellow !  you've  only  got  to  look 
round  you.  If  you  were  a  large  employer  of  labour, 
you'd  be  able  to  tell  me  how  many  men,  out  of,  say, 
six  hundred,  were  fit  to  wield  power  over  their  fellows. 
Promote  a  man  from  the  ranks,  and  he  is  either  weak 
or  a  bully." 

"  History  contradicts  your  statements,"  argued  Sir 
Henry.  "  How  many  leaders  of  men  have  been  of 
humble  birth  and  extraction  ?  " 

"  I  grant  you  there  is  always  the  exception  that 
proves  the  rule,"  replied  the  Captain.  He  was  con- 
stitutionally unable  to  acknowledge  defeat.  "  But 
their  number  is  so  small  that  it  would  never  warrant 
throwing  the  country  into  the  hands  of  the  populace. 
If  any  are  endowed  with  sufficient  brain  to  rise  from 


216  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

the  ruck,  let  them  come  to  the  top.  We'll  be  glad  to 
acknowledge  them  when  they  arrive.  Oh,  no,  no! 
the  ambition  for  personal  power,  and  the  love  of 
wielding  it,  is  the  curse  of  England  to-day.  It  breeds 
a  class  of  agitators." 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  mind  them  having  power 
if  they  didn't  use  it  in  such  a  disagreeable  way,"  said 
Miss  Price.  "  But  they  do  like  to  show  off.  Only 
last  week,  in  London,  I  was  hurried  down  a  long  flight 
of  steps  at  an  underground  station ;  the  train  was  just 
coming  in,  and  I  had  ample  time,  but  just  as  I  got  to 
the  bottom,  the  man  shut  the  door  in  my  face.  There 
was  I,  caged,  the  train  standing  opposite,  and  the  man 
grinning  in  triumph  !  I  wouldn't  bandy  words  with 

him,  but  when  a  gentleman  beside  me  said, (  D ,' 

I  turned  and  thanked  him  effusively.  I  really  couldn't 
help  it!"  • 

"Insolent!"  fumed  Captain  Maitland,  while  the 
others  laughed.  "There  was  the  petty  official  ex- 
hibiting his  power;  he  had  got  us,  and  he  knew  it." 

"  He  must  have  been  a  disagreeable  person,  but 
that  does  not  condemn  his  class,"  said  Sir  Henry. 

Captain  Maitland  was  bringing  reserves  to  the 
attack,  when  the  door  opened  suddenly,  and  Jim 
entered.  Mildred  jumped  up  with  a  welcoming  cry. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  ?  "  "  Have  you  had  some 
dinner  ?  "  "  Why  didn't  you  send  a  telegram  ?"  were 
the  questions  which  greeted  him. 


THE  MISSING  WORD  217 

"  I  bicycled  from  Larnham,"  Jim  said  quietly. 
"I  am  sorry  I  did  not  let  you  know.  I  could  not 
get  away  until  this  afternoon." 

"  Well !  What  did  your  father  say  to  your  good 
news  ?  "  asked  Sir  Henry. 

Jim  hesitated.  For  a  moment  his  eyes  went  from 
one  to  the  other,  as  if  seeking  for  help.  Miss  Price 
rose. 

"If  you  will  come  into  the  morning  room  with  me, 
Captain  Maitland,  we  will  marshal  our  arguments  so 
that  our  concerted  attack  will  rout  Sir  Henry  next 
time,"  and  they  walked  to  the  door. 

"  No ! "  said  Jim,  suddenly.  "  Please  do  not  go. 
There  is  no  need.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me, 
and  I  should  like  you  to  know." 

Sir  Henry  and  Eleanor  had  drawn  closer,  a  deep 
anxiety  to  be  seen  on  their  faces. 

"  Tell  us,  my  boy,"  he  said  kindly.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  my  father's  son.  I  have  come  to  tell 
you  —  and  to  give  you  back  your  promise,  Mildred," 
he  added,  turning  to  the  girl.  "  I  have  no  name.  I 
do  not  know  who  I  am." 

For  a  second  she  looked  at  him,  all  her  heart  in 
her  eyes,  then  she  ran  to  him,  and,  throwing  her  arms 
round  his  neck,  "  Jim ! "  she  said,  "  you  stupid  old 
Jim  !  As  if  that  could  possibly  make  any  difference ! 
Uncle  Henry !  Aunt  Eleanor !  Help  me  to  make 
him  understand  that  it  can't  make  any  difference ! " 


218  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Jim  gently  released  her,  and  put  her  away  from 
him. 

"  Wait  until  you  have  heard  all  about  it,"  he  said. 

"  Come  and  sit  down,  dear  child,"  said  Eleanor. 
"  Let  Jim  tell  his  story  in  his  own  way." 

She  took  the  girl's  hand,  and  held  it  in  a  reassur- 
ing clasp,  as  she  drew  her  down  on  a  sofa. 

And  Jim  began  —  slowly  at  first,  but  gathering 
courage  as  he  went  on.  He  recounted  the  story  of 
the  fire,  and  the  part  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lucas  had  played, 
leaving  out  nothing.  He  told  them  of  the  desk,  and 
the  letter,  and  of  the  absolute  mystery  which  sur- 
rounded his  parentage.  No  one  interrupted  him. 
When  he  had  done,  he  said  :  — 

"  I  should  like  to  explain  one  thing.  You  may 
wonder  why  my  father"  —  he  spoke  the  word  dis- 
tinctly —  "  told  me  now,  when  all  my  life  he  has  kept 
silence.  He  is  getting  an  old  man;  his  powers  are  a 
little  feeble,  and  he  does  not  see  things  clearly.  He 
said  it  could  not  make  any  difference  in  my  life  or 
prospects.  He  did  not  understand.  My  mother  had 
no  idea  he  would  speak.  She  had  always  begged  him 
never  to  do  so,  and  had  entirely  dismissed  the  matter 
from  her  mind.  Indeed,  I  think  she  had  forgotten 
it !  She  was  as  unprepared  for  it  as  I  was.  I  should 
not  like  you  to  have  an  unjust  thought  towards 
them."  He  paused,  and  Mildred  was  about  to  speak, 
but  Sir  Henry  prevented  her,  and  Jim  continued. 


THE  MISSING  WOKD  219 

"  I  am,  of  course,  in  honour  bound  to  break  off  my 
engagement.  I  cannot  ask  Mildred  to  marry  me 
now ;  you  will  rightly  withdraw  your  consent.  I 
shall  devote  myself  to  the  task  of  finding  out  who 
I  am  —  and  then  I  shall  come  back  again." 

Mildred  rose,  in  spite  of  Eleanor's  restraining 
hand. 

"Am  I  not  to  be  considered?"  she  said  quickly. 
"  It  is  not  a  question  of  your  asking  me  to  marry 
you ;  you  have  asked  me  !  The  thing  is  done  !  You 
are  willing  to  release  me ;  but  what  if  I  refuse  to  be 
released  ?  And  I  do  refuse  !  Uncle  Henry !  please 
help  me!  "  she  cried,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "Don't 
you  see  —  Oh,  Jim!  "  she  sobbed,  "how  can  you  be 
so  silly?" 

Jim  stood  perfectly  erect  in  the  centre  of  the  room 

-he  made  no  movement  to  goto  her,  only  his  hands 

clenched  and  unclenched  themselves  in  his  efforts  for 

self-mastery.     His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Sir  Henry. 

Then  Sir  Henry  said  slowly  :  — 

"I  am  only  one  guardian ;  there  is  Lady  Vernon  to 
be  considered ;  but  so  far  as  my  consent  is  concerned, 
I  shall  not  withdraw  it.  I  think  Mildred  is  per- 
fectly right." 

In  two  strides  Jim  cleared  the  intervening  space, 
and  in  a  moment  had  taken  her  in  his  arms  before 
them  all.  Sir  Henry  deliberately  turned  round,  and 
poked  the  fire. 


220  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  Bravo ! "  said  Miss  Price,  softly,  rubbing  her 
hands  together. 

"  We  haven't  seen  the  letter  yet,"  said  Eleanor, 
suddenly.  "  We  must  see  that." 

"  It  seems  incredible  that  there  is  not  a  clue  of 
some  sort,"  said  Captain  Maitland. 

"There  is  more  inducement  to  find  it  now  than 
there  was  then.  I  don't  suppose  that  Mrs.  Lucas 
wanted  to  give  up  the  boy  at  all." 

Presently  Jim  and  Mildred  joined  the  circle  round 
the  fire. 

"  Will  you  write  to  Lady  Vernon,  Sir  Henry  ? " 
he  asked  ;  "  or  shall  I  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  will  write,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Will  you  tell  her  that  I  shall  do  my  very  best  to 
find*  out  the  truth  before  we  are  married  ?  I  am 
determined  to  do  this." 

"  What  steps  are  you  going  to  take  ? "  asked 
Captain  Maitland.  "  What  is  the  exact  information 
you  have  got  to  go  upon  ?  " 

"I  have  no  information  beyond  the  date  of  the 
fire,  and  of  course  the  example  of  my  mother's 
handwriting." 

"  You  have  not  shown  us  the  letter.  May  we  see 
it?"  asked  Sir  Henry. 

Jim  handed  it  to  him.  He  read  it  through  care- 
fully. 

"  There  is  one  illegible  word  in  it,  but  it  does  not 


THE  MISSING  WORD  221 

seem  of  any  great  importance,"  he  said,  as  he  handed 
it  back  to  his  wife.  "  What  about  the  desk  ?  Is 
there  any  possibility  of  a  secret  hiding-place  in  it  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Jim.  "It  is  very 
simply  made,  with  hardly  any  fittings.  I  can,  of 
course,  have  it  examined  by  an  expert.  There  is  a 
little  mark  like  a  star  cut  on  it;  it  looks  as  if  a 
child  had  done  it  with  a  knife ;  but  that  is  no  clue. 
There  are  no  initials,  or  crest.  We  must  begin  by 
trying  the  advertisements  again,  I  suppose." 

Miss  Price  read  the  letter  in  her  turn,  and  then 
gave  it  to  the  Captain,  who  carried  it  to  the  lamp  so 
as  to  obtain  a  better  light.  The  others  were  listen- 
ing to  Jim,  and  did  not  notice  that  after  a  few 
moments  he  fetched  a  magnify  ing-glass  from  the 
writing-table,  and  studied  something  very  carefully. 
Then  he  said  :  — 

"  You  are  wrong  !  There  is  a  clue  here,  and  a 
very  strong  one.  The  word  is  ice." 

"  Ice !  "  echoed  Sir  Henry,  in  surprise. 

"  How  is  that  a  clue  ?  "  asked  Jim. 

"  i  These  letters  will  reach  you  when  the  ice  breaks.1 
This  sentence  can  only  have  one  meaning,"  continued 
the  Captain.  "  The  man  was  in  the  Arctic  regions, 
or  possibly  the  Antarctic,  but  that  is  not  so  likely." 

"  An  Arctic  expedition !  "  cried  Mildred. 

"  Yes  !  "  he  returned.  "  When  I  went  out  in 
1874,  we  got  our  mails  at  Hammerfest.  The  letters 


222  TKEVOR  LOEDSHIP 

for  this  expedition  would  naturally  have  been  sent 
to  the  first  point  at  which  they  were  expected  to 
touch  on  their  homeward  journey,  in  the  hopes  of 
catching  them  there.  Although,  of  course,  your 
plans  are  apt  to  miscarry  up  there." 

"  Then,"  said  Jim,  and  in  spite  of  himself  his 
voice  shook  a  little,  "  we  have  only  to  find  out  what 
expedition  was  there  in  1880." 

"  Yes.  I  can't  remember  off-hand,  but  Markham 
went  for  the  second  time  in  1879,  and  Leigh  Smith 
in  1880.  Of  course  there  were  others.  You  could 
find  a  list  in  the  library,  I  should  think  ;  and  of 
course  the  Royal  Geographical  Society  would  give 
you  any  information." 

"  It's  a  clue  !  A  distinct  clue  !  How  clever  of 
you  to  find  it,"  cried  Mildred. 

"  Indeed  it  is  ! "  said  Jim,  eagerly.  "  I  am  full  of 
hope  now." 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  said  Sir  Henry,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  young  man's  shoulder.  "  I  don't  want  to  throw 
cold  water  on  your  little  spark  of  hope,  but  we 
mustn't  forget  how  long  ago  it  is.  Many  members 
of  these  expeditions  may  be  dead.  Some  never  re- 
turned at  all.  However,"  he  added,  more  cheerfully, 
"  some  did,  —  here's  our  old  friend  here  to  bear  wit- 
ness to  that,  and  we  will  all  do  our  best  to  aid  you 
in  your  search.  Stay  a  few  days,  at  all  events,  until 
I  have  heard  from  Lady  Vernon ;  and  until  we  have 
got  authentic  details  of  the  various  expeditions." 


THE  MISSING  WORD  223 

"  I  shall  go  to  town  to-morrow,  I  think,"  said 
Captain  Maitland.  "  I  have  one  or  two  old  friends 
who  will  be  able  to  help  us  considerably,  men  who 
have  kept  up  their  interest  and  connection  with  this 
exploring  work." 

"  It  would  be  awfully  good  of  you,"  said  Jim, 
gratefully. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  the  old  man,  stoutly.  "  I 
mean  to  help  you  to  worry  this  out.  Will  you  take 
a  partner  in  the  search  ?  " 

"  With  the  best  will  in  the  world,"  replied  Jim, 
heartily.  "  Your  help  will  put  new  heart  into  me." 

The  Captain  took  his  leave  soon  after,  and 
Mildred  and  Jim  disappeared. 

"They  have  plenty  to  say  to  each  other,"  said 
Miss  Price.  "  What  a  curious  story  it  is !  " 

"  Of  course,  the  husband  being  out  of  England 
might  be  the  reason  that  the  advertisements  were 
not  answered,"  returned  Sir  Henry.  "  I  imagine 
some  of  these  parties  stay  away  for  years,  and  no 
doubt,  if  he  ever  did  return,  he  could  find  no  trace 
of  his  wife  and  child." 

"  Dear  little  Mildred  ! "  said  Eleanor ;  "  she  was 
very  brave  about  it." 

"  Yes  ! "  agreed  Miss  Price,  "  she  has  plenty  of 
good  sense.  I  thoroughly  applauded  your  decision, 
Sir  Henry." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied.     "  It  would  have  been 


224  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

hard  if  their  happiness  had  been  destroyed  suddenly, 
by  something  unforeseen  and  unavoidable." 

He  looked  at  his  wife  as  he  spoke.  The  desire  to 
do  what  would  please  her  had  influenced  his  action ; 
and  he  was  hoping  she  would  express  her  approval, 
but  he  was  disappointed.  Eleanor  rose. 

"  I  think  it  is  time  to  say  good-night,"  she  said 
rather  stiffly.  "  I  will  go  and  call  Mildred." 

Sir  Henry's  two  letters  to  Lady  Vernon  had  fol- 
lowed so  soon  the  one  after  the  other,  that  he  re- 
ceived one  reply  to  them  both,  and  that  reply  came 
as  a  blow  to  Mildred's  often  repeated  assertion  that 
their  marriage  might  still  take  place  in  July,  as  had 
been  originally  intended.  For  Lady  Vernon's  atti- 
tude towards  her  wards  was  apparently  very  different 
to  what  it  had  been  when  they  were  alone  and 
friendless.  She  had  been  prepared  with  equanimity 
to  see  Mildred  earning  her  own  living  then,  but 
now  that  they  had  been  virtually  adopted  by  Sir 
Henry  and  Lady  Trevor,  they  had  assumed  a  new 
importance  in  her  eyes.  So  much  was  evident  from 
the  tone  of  her  epistle,  for  she  stated  plainly  that 
she  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  how  Sir  Henry  could 
think  so  lightly  of  his  responsibility  as  guardian 
as  to  give  his  consent  to  Mildred's  engagement  with 
a  young  man  who,  by  his  own  showing,  was  nobody 
at  all.  His  birth  was  unknown,  therefore  he  might 


THE  MISSING  WORD  225 

be,  and  probably  was,  of  humble  parentage,  and 
quite  unsuitable  to  be  for  one  moment  considered  as 
an  eligible  suitor.  She  hoped  Sir  Henry  would  see 
the  advisability  of  discontinuing  the  acquaintance, 
and  make  it  clear  to  the  young  man  that  any  further 
attentions  on  his  part  would  be  considered  an  imper- 
tinence. She  suggested  that  Mildred  should  come 
to  London,  where  she  proposed  to  introduce  her  into 
society  which  would  enable  her  to  find  a  husband 
for  her.  Some  one  suitable  in  birth  and  fortune  to 
Mildred's  beauty  and  position ! 

The  whole  letter  was  pompous  to  the  point  of  vul- 
garity, and  the  possibility  of  Mildred's  affections  being 
already  given  to  this  ( nobody'  was  quite  ignored. 

Mildred  had  cheered  Jim  in  her  pretty,  hopeful 
way,  and  even  now  would  not  acknowledge  this  to 
be  a  crushing  blow. 

"  It  only  means  waiting,  dearest,"  she  said.  "  In 
a  little  over  two  years  I  shall  be  of  age,  and  can  do 
what  I  choose.  Uncle  Henry  says  we  must  not 
be  engaged;  but  that  does  not  matter,  because  we 
shall  write  to  each  other,  and  love  each  other,  and 
long  before  that  you  will  have  found  out  all  about 
everything." 

And  what  could  Jim  do,  with  her  arms  round  him, 
and  her  cheek  against  his,  but  assure  her  of  his 
undying  devotion,  which  neither  time  nor  separation 
could  alter  ? 


226  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Sir  Henry  had,  man-like,  been  irritated  at  the  idea 
of  Lady  Vernon  presuming  to  hint  that  his  interpre- 
tation of  Duty  was  not  all  that  it  ought  to  be,  and 
had  stoutly  declined  to  follow  her  instructions. 

"  I  repeat,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  withdraw  my  con- 
sent; but  under  the  circumstances  there  can  be  no 
formal  engagement.  I  shall  be  pleased  to  see  Jim, 
whenever  he  cares  to  come ;  and  if  letters  will  help 
you  both  to  get  over  a  period  of  waiting,  I  shall  say 
nothing  to  prevent  your  writing  as  much  as  you  like. 
My  affection  for  Jim  remains  the  same." 

And  now  all  their  attention  was  turned  to  the  great 
problem  of  how  to  discover  the  secret  which  circum- 
stances had  hidden  so  carefully  for  so  long.  Captain 
Maitland  and  Jim  had  agreed  to  make  London  their 
headquarters,  for  a  time  at  least.  It  was  considered 
advisable  to  be  on  the  spot  in  order  to  consult  records 
and  interview  authorities. 

"  We  must  not  expect  events  to  march  quickly," 
said  the  Captain  to  Eleanor.  "  The  search  will  take 
time,  of  course.  I  have  heard  from  my  friend, 
Gervase,  who  is  a  great  man  on  Polar  exploration. 
He  will  have  a  list  of  names  ready  for  us  when  we 
arrive  in  London." 

"  I  don't  know  what  Jim  would  have  done  without 
you,"  she  returned  gratefully.  "  I  don't  know  how 
to  thank  you." 

"  I  will  do  my  best  for  the  lad,"  he  said  heartily. 


THE  MISSING  WORD  227 

"  I  want-  to  see  the  young  people  happy  if  it  is 
possible." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Eleanor,  gently,  "for  a 
moment  I  half  hoped  that  you  might  be  the  man 
we  were  seeking !  " 

He  smiled. 

"  Ah  !  your  search  would  have  been  quickly  ended  if 
that  had  been  the  case.  No  !  I  had  a  son  once  —  but 
I  lost  him  —  and  his  mother.  He  would  have  been 
about  Jim's  age  now.  I  think  that  is  why  I  am  so 
fond  of  the  boy.  My  life's  romance  was  very  short, 
but  I  have  not  lost  the  memory." 

He  spoke  with  deep  feeling,  and  Eleanor  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said  ;  "  I  did  not  know." 

"  How  should  you,  dear  lady  ?  That's  all  right. 
And  now,  to  turn  from  the  past  to  the  present.  Our 
course  is  quite  clear.  It  is  slow  and  sure  does  it  — 
slow  and  sure  !  " 

The  old  man  was  entirely  hopeful,  and  the  others 
could  not  but  be  infected  by  his  cheerfulness;  and 
finally  he  and  Jim  started  off  in  good  spirits  to  com- 
mence their  search.  How  long  would  it  take,  and 
what  would  be  the  result  ?  No  one  could  tell. 

Miss  Price  took  her  departure  soon  after,  with  a 
heavy  heart.  Since  the  evening  of  Mildred's  engage- 
ment she  had  had  no  intimate  conversation  with 


228  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Eleanor,  and  she  was   forced  to  leave   her  without 
ascertaining  the  cause  of  her  altered  demeanour. 

And  so  life  settled  down  again  much  in  its  old  lines 
at  'Trevor  Lordship';  outwardly,  at  least,  for  the 
inward  changes  were  hardly  apparent  on  the  surface. 
Mildred  was  learning  that  hardest  of  all  woman's 
lessons,  'how  to  wait,'  and  Eleanor  was  doing  her 
best  to  piece  together  the  broken  fragments  of  a 
dream. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  ROSE  FADES 

"  Mais,  elle  e"tait  du  monde  ou  les  plus  belles  choses 

Ont  le  pire  destin, 

Et  Hose,  elle  a  vecu  ce  que  vives  les  roses  — 
L'espace  d'un  matin  1" 

—  FRANCOIS  DE  MALHERBE. 

THE  words  which  Sir  Henry  had  spoken  had,  so 
far  as  Eleanor  could  see,  given  her  no  choice  but  to 
believe  that  he  regretted  his  marriage.  This  must  of 
course  mean  that  he  had  no  love  for  her ;  and  yet,  as 
the  summer  came,  and  the  days  lengthened  in  all 
their  splendour  and  sunshine,  she  knew  that  her 
own  love  was  only  growing  stronger.  And  little  by 
little,  there  grew  with  it  a  tiny  flower  of  hope ;  hope 
that,  as  all  great  things  influence  their  surroundings, 
so  the  very  strength  of  her  affection  would  compel 
his  in  response.  At  the  moment,  at  all  events,  she 
was  content  to  wait. 

Sometimes  she  reflected  with  incredulity  that  it 
was  only  a  year,  or  even  less,  since  she  had  deplored 
the  lack  of  human  interest,  so  full  of  it  were  her  days 
now.  She  had  grown  to  lavish  on  the  invalid  at 
'Rooks'  Nest'  a  very  tender  and  deep  affection.  Her 
companionship  had  done  much  for  the  girl,  and,  in- 
deed, the  gain  had  been  mutual,  for  their  long  talks 

229 


230  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

and  intimate  discussions  had  greatly  assisted  in  Elea- 
nor's awakening.  Her  mind  had  been  broadened,  her 
intelligence  roused,  by  the  constant  contact  with  one 
who,  whatever  her  limitations,  had  certainly  lived  her 
short  life  to  its  uttermost. 

And,  in  return,  her  friendship  was  a  stimulus  to 
Constance's  feeble  vitality,  and  the  new  interest  had, 
for  a  time  at  least,  seemed  to  strengthen  her  frail 
hold  on  life.  Mrs.  Mollison  and  Eleanor,  however, 
who  watched  her  with  the  eyes  of  love,  could  not  fail 
to  notice  that  the  sands  of  life  were  surely  running 
down. 

And  during  all  these  months  their  conversation 
had  never  once  touched  upon  the  forbidden  topic. 
Constance's  past  was  still  a  sealed  book  to  Eleanor, 
who,  in  her  turn,  talked  of  literature,  politics,  history, 
any  possible  subject  rather  than  her  life,  her  doings, 
and  her  friends.  She  felt  that  if  she  gave  her  confi- 
dence, it  would  seem  as  if  she  were  demanding  con- 
fidence in  return. 

But  one  afternoon,  with  her  mind  full  of  Mildred's 
affair,  she  found  herself  mentioning  it  before  she 
was  aware  that  she  had  broken  through  her  rule. 
And  Constance  was  most  interested,  and  asked  many 
questions. 

"  How  old  is  she  ?  What  is  she  like  ?  How  long 
have  they  known  each  other  ?  " 

"  They  have  known  each  other  for  five  or  six  years, 


THE  ROSE  FADES  231 

ever  since  they  were  children,  in  fact,  for  they  are  not 
very  much  more  now.  She  is  eighteen,  and  Jim  is, 
I  believe,  twenty-two  or  three." 

"  That  isn't  so  very  young,"  said  Constance,  slowly. 
"  I  was  only  seventeen."  Then  she  bit  her  lip,  as  if 
the  words  had  escaped  her  unthinkingly.  Eleanor 
did  not  seem  to  notice. 

"And  I  was  thirty-three,"  she  said,  smiling. 
"  There  is  a  difference !  But,  after  all,  they  will 
grow  old  together ;  they  will  not  waste  their  youth." 

"  Youth  is  only  a  term,"  replied  Constance.  "  Some 
people's  youth  lasts  all  their  lives,  and  others — doesn't 
last  more  than  a  few  months.  How  good  you  are ! " 
she  said  suddenly.  "  You  have  never  asked  me  any 
questions  —  you  know  nothing  about  me !  and  yet 
look  what  you  are  to  me." 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  anything,"  declared  Elea- 
nor, stoutly. 

"No!"  said  the  girl,  slowly.  Then  she  stooped 
forward  and  kissed  her.  "  Dear,"  she  said,  "  if  there 
could  be  anything  that  would  hold  me  here,  it  would 
be  you;  but  even  you  can't  do  that.  And  I  don't 
think  you  would  wish  to  if  you  could.  It  won't  be 
very  long  now.  I  know  that.  No !  hush  "  (as  Elea- 
nor tried  to  speak) ;  "  and  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing —  a  little." 

"Don't,  dearest!"  said  Eleanor.  "I  don't  want 
to  know." 


232  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  Ah !  but  you  must  listen,  and  afterwards  you 
shall  know  everything.  It  is  due  to  you,  my  friend. 
Listen !  My  father  was  St.  John  Fortescue,  and  my 
mother  died  when  I  was  fifteen.  We  were  never 
very  well  off,  but  after  that,  my  father  sold  our  little 
home  in  Cheshire, — he  couldn't  live  there  without 
my  mother,  —  and  we  went  abroad.  When  I  was 
just  seventeen,  we  were  at  Wiesbaden,  and  my  father 
became  very  ill.  He  lived  two  months,  and  two  days 
after  his  funeral  I  married  a  man  who  had  been  very 
kind  to  me  during  his  illness." 

She  paused,  as  if  desirous  of  choosing  her  words, 
and  then  continued :  — 

"  The  end  came  four  months  later,  and  Nannie 
came  and  took  me  away  to  her  home  in  Scotland. 
She  was  my  nurse,  you  know.  It  has  been  very 
hard  on  poor  Nannie.  My  baby  died,  and  after  a 
while  they  said  I  couldn't  live  in  Scotland,  so  we 
came  here.  That  is  three  years  ago  —  And  that  is 
all !  "  she  finished,  with  a  wan  smile. 

What  had  been  the  end  ?  Not  death,  surely  not 
kindly  death,  with  his  mantle  of  forgiveness.  But 
something  infinitely  harder  to  bear !  Eleanor  kissed 
her  in  silence,  and  presently  she  continued:  — 

"  I  think  it  was  my  baby's  death  that  broke  my 
heart.  If  I  had  had  her,  I  should  have  had  some- 
thing to  care  for ;  but  she  only  lived  a  month. 
But  after  all,  it  was  best  for  her,  and  I  shall  see  her 


THE  KOSE  FADES  233 

soon  —  very  soon  now.  Don't  cry ! "  as  the  tears 
rose  in  Eleanor's  eyes.  "Don't  you  see  there  is 
nothing  to  cry  for  now  ?  It  is  all  joy  now.  And 
looking  back  from  where  I  stand  to-day,  I  see  the 
past  so  clearly,  and  somehow  it  was  worth  while ! 
i  I  should  live  the  same  life  over  if  I  had  to  live 
again/  because  whatever  happens,  afterwards,  what- 
ever breaks  the  dream,  one  has  the  memory,  and  the 
memory  is  better,  —  oh !  so  far  better  than  nothing. 
It  is  love  that  makes  everything  possible  except  for- 
getfulness.  And  who  wants  to  forget  ?  Not  I ! 
The  memory  is  my  delight.  You  will  know  what  I 
mean,  Eleanor,  when  you  have  a  child.  You  will 
know  how  it  repays  all,  and  makes  everything  worth 
while.  To  carry  love  under  your  heart,  and  in  your 
arms !  — " 

She  lay  back  on  her  pillows,  and  Eleanor  rose  quickly. 

"  You  mustn't  talk  any  more,  dear  child.  It  is  too 
much  for  you."  She  poured  out  a  dose  of  medicine, 
and  gave  it  to  her.  "  Lie  still,  dear  one  !  " 

After  a  while  Constance  recovered  a  little. 

"  I  did  not  know  I  had  so  much  energy ! "  she 
smiled,  faintly.  "  But  I  feel  I  must  speak  to-day. 
We  may  not  have  another  opportunity.  Dear 
Eleanor !  you  will  remember,  won't  you,  that  if  you 
have  love,  you  must  guard  it,  and  cherish  it,  and 
hold  it  fast.  Neither  trouble,  nor  sorrow,  nor  separa- 
tion, nor  coldness  can  take  it  from  you ;  even  if  it 


234  TEEVOE  LOEDSHIP 

is  only  a  memory,  it  is  riches.  You  are  troubled 
now,  I  know,  I  can  see ;  but  it  will  pass.  All  will 
come  right.  I  don't  know  how  I  know  it,  but  I  do 
know  it  —  and  when  it  does,  you  will  think  of  me, 
won't  you  ?  r 

Eleanor  could  only  hold  her  closely  in  speechless 
tenderness. 

They  parted  soon  after,  for  the  last  time,  as  it 
proved.  For  the  next  morning,  very  early,  Nannie 
found  her  bairn  lying  asleep  as  she  had  left  her  but  a 
few  short  hours  before,  but  with  the  light  of  the  ever- 
lasting love  on  her  cold  little  face. 

Later  in  the  day,  as  Eleanor  sat  holding  the  faith- 
ful woman's  hand  in  deepest  sympathy,  she  heard  the 
whole  tragic  story,  just  as  Constance  had  told  it,  but 
with  added  details. 

"  I  came  to  London  when  she  wrote  me  her  babe 
was  coming,"  said  Mrs.  Mollison,  brokenly.  "  She 
was  much  alone,  although  he  came  sometimes.  She 
never  guessed,  but  I  felt  there  was  something  wrong. 
And  one  fine  day  we  knew.  I'd  have  cut  off  my 
right  hand  sooner,  but  she  found  it  out  through  me. 
I  had  been  out  to  do  some  shopping,  and  I  brought 
her  home  a  picture  paper,  thinking  it  would  cheer 
her.  I  gave  it  to  her  without  looking  at  it,  and 
presently  I  heard  a  cry.  Ma'am,  dear,  I  can  never 
forget  it !  There  was  his  picture,  and  a  bit  of  print- 


THE  ROSE  FADES  235 

ing  about  him ;  'twas  something  to  do  with  Parlia- 
ment, I  think ;  and  they  gave  a  bit  of  his  life.  He 
was  married  —  had  been  married  for  years,  and  it 
mentioned  who  his  wife  was,  and  how  they  had  come 
to  London.  It  was  easily  proved,  too,  for  I  went  to 
the  address,  and  saw  them  at  the  door.  Aye !  and 
he  saw  me  too,  though  I  never  stayed  a  moment, 
nor  spoke  a  word.  I  took  my  bairn  straight  to  my 
home  in  bonny  Scotland,  and  there  I  will  take  her 
again,  me  and  my  man,  to  lie  with  her  babe  in  the 
auld  kirkyard.  Don't  ask  me  his  name,  m'  lady,  for  I 
told  her  I'd  never  name  him,  and  I  never  will." 

"Did  he  ever  try  to  find  her?"  asked  Eleanor, 
gently. 

"  He  would  never  have  found  her,"  said  the  woman, 
grimly.  tf  But  I  don't  think  he'd  have  tried.  He'd 
tired  of  her,  you  see." 

Only  that !  —  a  man's  pastime  —  and  a  woman's 
life.  Well,  it  was  finished  now,  and  the  rest  was  in 
the  hands  of  God  ! 

A  few  days  after,  the  house  was  closed,  only  to  be 
let  later  to  a  couple  with  a  sturdy  family,  whose 
laughter  echoed  through  the  rooms  where  tragedy 
had  brooded  so  long  —  but  the  blank  in  Eleanor's 
life  was  not  so  soon  filled.  The  fragrance  of  the 
gentle  soul  lingered  like  the  essence  of  the  rose  leaves 
after  the  flower  is  dead. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES 

*'  Speech  is  but  broken  light  upon  the  depth 

Of  the  unspoken." 

—  GEOKGB  ELIOT. 

"I  REALLY  felt  I  couldn't  stand  London  another 
minute.  I  simply  had  to  get  away,"  said  Minnie,  as 
she  threw  off:  her  cloak,  and  sank  down  on  a  sofa. 
"  I  hope  you  did  not  mind  me  telegraphing  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  Eleanor.  "  It's  so  nice  to 
have  you." 

"  I  hope  nothing  is  wrong?"  asked  Sir  Henry. 

"  Oh,  nothing  !     I  was  only  hopelessly  tired." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  have  had  bad  news 
of  your  husband,"  continued  her  brother.  "  How  is 
he?" 

"  Oh,  Hugh's  all  right,"  said  Minnie ;  and  then 
after  a  slight  pause,  she  added,  "  he's  coming  home." 

"  How  glad  you  must  be  !  "  said  Eleanor.  "  Is  the 
regiment  coming,  or  has  he  got  leave  ?  " 

"He  has  got  leave.  He  is  rather  seedy,  nothing 
much;  he  said  he  would  be  home  some  time  in  the 
autumn." 

Minnie  spoke  with  rather  elaborate  carelessness,  or 
so  it  struck  Eleanor. 

236 


MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES  237 

"  How  did  you  leave  London  ?  "  asked  Sir  Henry. 

"Hopeless!"  replied  Minnie,  wearily.  "It's  been 
a  horrid  season,  and  I  shall  be  thankful  when  it  is 
over.  Every  one  is  thoroughly  dull.  I  haven't  even 
heard  a  good  story  for  months.  I  hate  the 
sight  of  the  place,  and  wish  I  might  never  see  it 
again." 

"  Was  this  Minnie  ? "  thought  Eleanor,  in  sur- 
prise !  Something  must  be  seriously  wrong  to  put 
the  world  thus  out  of  joint  for  Minnie,  and  make  her 
leave  town  when  the  season  was  at  its  height.  But 
she  made  no  comment. 

"  How  is  Mrs.  Trevor  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Mamma  is  quite  well,  but  she  worries  me.  She 
keeps  on  saying  I  look  ill,  which  is  only  another  way 
of  telling  a  person  they  look  ugly.  I  suppose  it's  the 
truth,  because  no  less  than  four  people  told  me  the 
same  thing  yesterday.  Heaven  save  me  from  can- 
did friends ! " 

"  Well,  stay  here  and  have  a  good  rest,"  said  Sir 
Henry ;  "  only  I'm  afraid  that,  as  far  as  dulness  goes, 
you'll  find  it  worse  here." 

"  I  met  Jim  Lucas  in  Bond  Street,  a  day  or  two 
ago,"  said  Minnie,  presently. 

"  Mildred  will  be  interested.     How  was  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite  cheerful.  He  said  he  had  had  four  differ- 
ent interviews  this  week  ;  all  useless  !  He  was  rather 
funny  about  the  last  one.  He  and  Captain  Maitland 


238  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

went  to  see  an  old  lady  who  turned  them  out  of  the 
house.  She  seemed  to  consider  they  were  casting 
aspersions  on  the  character  of  her  late  husband.  He 
said  they  tried  in  vain  to  get  her  to  answer  a  few 
questions.  But  he  seemed  quite  confident  that  they 
would  find  the  right  person  presently." 

Roger  Bolding  came  in  a  little  later  with  Joan  and 
Mildred,  and  greeted  Minnie  with  cheerful  surprise. 

"  How  did  you  manage  to  tear  yourself  away  from 
the  gay  city  ?  "  he  asked  her. 

"It  isn't  gay !  "  she  replied,  rather  pettishly.  "  It's 
a  dull  hole,  and  fearfully  depressing." 

"  Is  the  shadow  of  Kruger's  top  hat  veiling  the  sun 
of  society  ? "  he  asked  lightly.  "  We  even  feel  it 
here !  Nothing  will  persuade  your  brother  that  the 
country  isn't  going  to  be  plunged  in  bloody  warfare ! " 

"  Have  you  read  your  paper  to-day  ?  "  put  in  Sir 
Henry,  gravely.  "  You  were  so  certain  that  this  con- 
ference was  going  to  straighten  things  out,  and  now 
Milner  has  had  to  leave  Bloomfontein,  having  achieved 
nothing ! " 

"  Oh,  it's  all  bluff.  If  we  stand  firm,  they'll  climb 
down." 

"  Half  the  world  says  there  will  be  war,  and  the 
other  half  ridicules  the  idea,"  said  Minnie. 

"I  don't  ridicule  it  exactly,"  replied  Bolding. 
"  But  I  don't  believe  it  will  come.  I  rather  wish  it 
would.  I  should  like  to  see  our  chaps  knock  those 


MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES  289 

Dutch  fellows  into  fits.  It  would  be  over  in  a  fort- 
night. Teach  them  a  jolly  good  lesson  !  " 

"  You're  wrong,  my  dear  fellow,  you're  wrong !  " 
declared  Sir  Henry.  "  If  it  comes  to  war,  as  person- 
ally I  am  afraid  it  will,  it  won't  be  over  in  a  fort- 
night, nor  yet  in  six  months.  And  it  won't  be  such 
a  simple  matter  for  us  as  you  imagine." 

"  Oh  !  do  stop,  Henry,"  cried  Minnie ;  "  and  talk  of 
something  more  cheerful.  Of  course  there  won't  be 
war.  It's  absurd  to  suggest  such  a  thing.  Will 
there,  Monsieur  Alphonse  Daudet  ?  " 

Alphonse  sat  up,  and  looked  unutterably  wise,  but, 
like  wiser  folk  than  he,  volunteered  no  opinion. 

"  Please  don't  feed  him  any  more,  Aunt  Minnie," 
said  Joan.  "  He's  been  visiting  the  butcher,  and  had 
a  lot  of  scraps.  Mr.  Green  does  spoil  him  so.  We 
didn't  see  Lavender,  Aunt  Eleanor ;  she  had  gone  to 
Bessie,  who  has  got  a  bran-new  baby  !  I  do  hope  we 
shall  see  it  soon." 

"  Mrs.  Giles  was  looking  after  the  shop,"  said  Mil- 
dred. "  She  heard  Bessie  was  going  on  all  right." 

"  Poor  Bessie  !  "  said  Eleanor,  softly. 

"  I  did  have  such  fun  this  morning,"  cried  Joan, 
suddenly.  "  I  got  such  a  rise  out  of  Ma'mselle ! 
Oh !  she  did  get  baity !  " 

"  Baity ! "  repeated  Eleanor.  "  Where  in  the  world 
did  you  get  that  expression,  and  what  does  it  mean?" 

"  Same  as  shirty,"  explained  Joan.     "  Waxy,  you 


240  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

know.  Well,  she's  fearfully  keen  on  French  history, 
and  is  always  bragging  and  boasting  about  it,  unti] 
it's  perfectly  sickening.  She  gave  us  a  lesson  to 
write,  and  the  first  question  was,  'Who  was  Joan 
of  Arc  ? '  So  I  put  i  Mrs.  Noah  ! '  You  should  have 
seen  her  face  when  I  showed  it  up  !  " 

"  Oh,  Joan !  it  was  naughty,"  said  Eleanor  and 
Mildred  together. 

"  Well !  what  is  the  use  of  learning  all  about  a  lot 
of  people  who  have  been  dead  for  hundreds  of  years  ? 
They  can't  be  any  possible  use  to  me !  Now,  if  she 
would  teach  about  present-day  people  who  really  did 
something,  there  would  be  some  sense  in  it.  Joan 
of  Arc  was  a  silly  girl  who  went  and  got  burnt,  and 
there  was  an  end  of  her.  Who  wants  to  remember 
her?" 

"  The  crime  of  non-success,"  said  Bolding.  "  Where 
do  you  get  your  worldly  wisdom,  Joan?" 

"Who  would  you  like  to  learn  about,  Joan?" 
asked  Sir  Henry. 

"  Oh !  I  know  lots  of  people !  Lord  Roberts,  and 
Nelson,  and  Queen  Victoria,  and  Oom  Paul." 

"  Shades  of  the  top  hat,  even  here,"  ejaculated 
Bolding. 

"  You  see  what  I  mean,  Uncle  Henry,  don't  you  ?  " 
asked  Joan,  anxiously.  "  Dead  people  aren't  half  so 
important  and  interesting  as  live  ones,  are  they  ?  " 

"  They  are  certainly  not  so  important  at  the  mo- 


MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES  241 

ment,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "  But  I  am  bound  to 
confess  that,  personally,  I  find  them  sometimes  more 
interesting.  Only  sometimes." 

Minnie  cheered  up  after  dinner,  and  was  more  her 
usual  self  during  the  evening ;  but  as  they  walked  up 
to  bed,  she  put  her  arm  through  Eleanor's,  and  drew 
her  into  her  room. 

"  Stay  with  me  for  a  little,"  she  said  wearily.  "  I 
hate  being  alone." 

"You  are  thoroughly  tired  out,"  said  Eleanor, 
kindly.  "Let  me  help  you  into  bed.  You'll  be 
much  better  after  a  night's  rest." 

"  I  didn't  bring  Walker ;  I  left  her  to  look  after 
Mamma." 

"  Well,  let  me  help  you.  You  must  get  to  sleep  as 
quickly  as  you  can." 

But  Minnie,  when  her  hair  was  loosened,  and  she 
was  wrapped  in  a  comfortable  gown,  declared  she 
was  not  sleepy.  She  was  sure  she  couldn't  sleep  if 
she  did  go  to  bed  —  and  then,  suddenly,  she  flung  her- 
self face  downwards  on  the  sofa,  and  burst  into  a  flood 
of  tears. 

Eleanor  felt  really  alarmed.  Minnie  in  tears !  It 
was  unbelievable.  But  she  soothed  her  as  best  she 
might  until  the  worst  of  the  storm  was  over.  She 
had  grown  very  fond  of  her  gay  little  sister-in-law, 
and  somehow  felt  a  little  indignant  that  life  should 
have  shown  its  shadow  side  to  one  so  obviously  in- 


242  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

tended  only  for  the  sunshine.  It  seemed  an  error  of 
judgment  on  the  part  of  the  fates  who  hold  the  strings 
to  which  we  puppets  dance,  to  have  assigned  Minnie 
a  tragedy  role,  when  she  was  only  suited  for  the 
lightest  comedy.  And  this  was  exactly  what  Minnie 
felt  herself ! 

"  Dear  Minnie,  do  tell  me  what  is  the  matter," 
Eleanor  said  at  last.  "  I  want  to  help  you,  and  per- 
haps I  can  if  you  will  only  tell  me  what  is  worrying 

you." 

But  Minnie  made  no  reply,  except  a  fresh  burst  of 
tears.  Eleanor  tried  severity. 

"  Now,  Minnie,"  she  said  firmly,  "  stop  crying  at 
once,  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  can't  do  anything 
when  I  haven't  the  vaguest  idea  what  is  the  matter." 

For  a  moment  she  thought  her  policy  had  suc- 
ceeded, for  Minnie  sat  up,  and  dried  her  eyes  with  a 
wisp  of  sodden  lace  handkerchief.  She  opened  her  lips 
to  speak,  but  no  words  came.  Eleanor  felt  hopeless. 

"  It's  no  use  trying  to  talk  any  more  to-night,"  she 
said  at  last.  "  Perhaps,  after  all,  you  are  worrying 
yourself  about  nothing.  Your  husband  will  be  home 
soon,  and  then  everything  will  be  all  right."  She 
spoke  consolingly. 

For  a  second,  a  gleam  of  honest  fright  shot  through 
Minnie's  childish  blue  eyes ;  then  she  rose. 

"  I'm  a  fool ! "  she  said,  in  rather  a  hard  voice. 
"  A  silly  fool !  You're  a  dear,  kind  thing.  Don't 


MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES  243 

trouble  about  me.     I'm  tired,  that's  all.     I  shall  be 
all  right  in  the  morning." 

And  in  this  unsatisfactory  frame  of  mind,  Eleanor 
was  forced  to  leave  her. 

The  next  day  was  Eleanor's  birthday.  She  remem- 
bered it  when  she  was  dressing,  as  a  fact  only  impor- 
tant in  that  it  recalled  to  her  that  the  years  were 
passing.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  reflection.  She  would 
gladly  have  arrested  time,  had  it  been  possible.  She 
felt  she  could  ill  spare  it,  for  every  empty  day  now, 
meant  one  more  gone  beyond  recall,  one  less  to  live 
when  she  had  gained  her  heart's  desire.  She  refused 
to  acknowledge  to  herself  that  her  hope  was  slowly 
growing  faint  and  cold.  It  seemed  impossible  to 
break  through  the  wall  of  habitual  routine  which 
stood  between  her  and  her  husband.  Sir  Henry  had 
certainly  joined  more  in  their  daily  doings,  of  late ; 
but  she  seldom  had  opportunity  for  private  conversa- 
tion with  him,  and  if  she  had,  it  was  occupied  with 
the  small  affairs  of  business  or  household  management 
which  needed  discussion.  She  longed  to  be  alone 
with  him  more ;  but  he  had  never  again  asked  her  to 
assist  him  with  his  work,  and  she  was  too  shy  to  ven- 
ture into  his  library  uninvited. 

Sometimes  she  found  herself  wishing  that  Mildred 
and  Joan,  and  Roger  Bolding,  and  a  few  other  inti- 
mates of  their  family  circle,  were  at  the  world's  end ; 


244  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

and  then  she  took  herself  to  task  for  the  selfishness 
of  the  thought. 

It  may  have  been  the  effect  of  Minnie's  emotion  on 
the  previous  evening  that  depressed  her  this  morning, 
or  it  may  have  been  that  the  brilliant  sunshine  and 
the  glad  song  of  the  birds  were  at  variance  with  the 
chill  she  felt  at  her  heart;  anyhow,  she  was  sensible 
of  being  a  little  out  of  tune  with  her  surroundings,  as 
she  descended  the  stairs,  and  entered  the  sunny  din- 
ing-room. 

Mildred  and  Joan  flew  to  her  with  good  wishes,  and 
each  had  a  little  present  for  her.  She  thanked  them 
fondly,  wondering  all  the  while  if  her  husband  would 
remember,  and  then  telling  herself  that  the  thought 
was  ridiculous.  In  all  probability  he  did  not  even 
know  of  the  anniversary. 

But  after  a  few  minutes  the  door  opened,  and  Sir 
Henry  walked  in. 

"  I  have  come  to  offer  my  congratulations.  Many 
happy  returns  of  the  day !  Here  is  a  small  offering 
with  my  respectful  compliments  !" 

In  spite  of  his  laughing  manner,  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  tone  which  brought  a  flush  to  Eleanor's 
cheek.  She  took  the  packet,  and,  opening  it,  found  a 
really  beautiful  watch  bracelet ;  a  thing  which  she  had 
repeatedly  expressed  a  desire  to  possess.  So  he  had  not 
only  remembered,  but  had  spent  time  and  trouble  on 
obtaining  the  very  thing  which  she  most  desired.  The 


MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES  245 

thought  was  so  delightful  that  she  found  it  hard  to 
control  her  voice  sufficiently  to  thank  him.  Sir  Henry 
stepped  closer  to  her. 

"  I  should  like  to  wish  that  it  will  only  count  happy 
hours  for  you,"  he  said  gently. 

Then  Joan  broke  in  excitedly. 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  you  are  pleased,"  she  cried.  "  I 
said  it  was  what  you  wanted,  and  we  were  so  dread- 
fully afraid  it  wouldn't  come  in  time." 

A  cloud  blotted  out  Eleanor's  new-found  joy.  So 
it  wasn't  his  own  idea  at  all !  He  would  never  have 
thought  of  it  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  child. 

"  Thank  you  very  much  indeed,"  she  said  in  a  voice 
which  tried  to  be  natural,  and  only  succeeded  in  being 
cold.  She  did  not  look  at  her  husband  as  she  took 
off  the  bracelet,  and  laid  it  back  in  its  case.  "  How 
clever  of  you,  Joan,  to  find  out  just  what  I  wanted." 

Mildred,  who  was  looking  at  Sir  Henry,  saw  a  cu- 
rious expression  pass  over  his  face;  then  he  murmured 
something  about  being  busy  this  morning,  and  left 
the  room. 

"  Don't  you  like  it?  "  asked  Joan,  sorrowfully,  after 
a  moment  of  rather  awkward  silence.  "  Oh,  I  did 
think  you  would  like  it !  Won't  you  put  it  on  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  like  it  very  much,"  Eleanor  said  lightly. 
"  And  I  will  certainly  put  it  on,  only  it  really  seems 
too  beautiful  for  daily  use.  Ah  !  here  is  Minnie." 

Minnie  declared  herself  perfectly  rested,  and  as  fit 
as  possible,  as  she  kissed  Eleanor  affectionately. 


246  TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

"  I  must  have  been  tired  last  night,"  she  said  apolo- 
getically. —  "  Oh,  what  a  heavenly  morning  !  " 

"  Here's  a  letter  for  you,  Minnie,"  said  Mildred. 

"  I  did  hope  I  was  out  of  reach  of  letters  for  one 
day  at  least ! " 

A  long  letter  from  Miss  Price  claimed  Eleanor's 
attention,  so  she  failed  to  notice  that  Minnie's  face 
grew  curiously  white  as  she  read.  Then  she  folded 
the  paper  again  without  a  word,  and  made  a  silent 
pretence  at  breakfasting. 

"  Do  have  something  more,"  said  Mildred  presently. 
"  You  have  eaten  nothing !  " 

"  I'm  not  hungry  !  " 

All  the  weariness  of  the  previous  evening  had  re- 
turned to  Minnie's  voice ;  and  no  sooner  was  the  meal 
over,  and  they  rose  from  the  table,  than  she  said :  — 

"  Oh,  Eleanor,  I'm  sorry,  but  I  find  I  must  get 
back  to  town  to-day." 

"  To-day  !  "  cried  Eleanor,  in  surprise.  "  Oh,  surely 
not !  I  am  sure  you  had  much  better  stay  a  few  days 
quietly  here.  It  isn't  worth  while  to  come  all  this 
way  for  one  night !  "  They  walked  to  the  morning 
room,  and  she  continued :  "  Dear  Minnie,  do  tell  me 
what  is  troubling  you.  Have  you  had  bad  news  ? 
Does  your  mother  want  you  back  again  ?  " 

"  No !  I  haven't  heard  from  Mamma  —  but  I  must 
go.  It's  important  —  business." 

"  Won't  it  keep  a  few  days  ?  " 


MINNIE  COMES  AND  GOES  247 

"  I  must  go  to-day,"  said  Minnie,  obstinately,  and, 
mystified  as  Eleanor  felt,  she  could  do  nothing  more. 

But  just  as  the  carriage  drove  round  to  take  her  to 
the  station,  an  hour  or  two  later,  Minnie  turned  and 
kissed  her  impulsively. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  old  thing !  I'm  sorry  to  be  such 
a  trouble." 

"  Do  let  me  help  you,"  Eleanor  said  again.  "  I  am 
sure  there  is  something  wrong." 

"  Perhaps  there  is,"  was  Minnie's  answer.  "  But  I 
think  I  can  manage  it  myself.  If  I  can't  —  perhaps 
I  will  ask  you." 

So,  much  to  Sir  Henry's  surprise,  when  luncheon 
time  came,  Minnie  had  departed. 

"  I  can't  think  why  she  came  at  all.  I  never  knew 
any  one  so  erratic.  Only  last  night  she  expressed 
her  intention  of  staying  some  days.  Did  she  give 
any  reason  for  going  ?  " 

"  She  said  something  about  important  business," 
replied  his  wife. 

Sir  Henry  laughed  good-humouredly. 

"What  in  the  world  has  Minnie  got  to  do  with 
business?  —  What  are  you  going  to  do  this  afternoon?" 

"  We  are  going  over  to  Larnham,  to  tea  with  Mrs. 
Wickham,"  Eleanor  answered.  "  They  have  a  tennis 
party." 

"  Why  don't  you  come,  Uncle  Henry?"  said  Mildred. 
"  Leave  your  work  for  once." 


248  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  face  it !  I  haven't  played 
tennis  for  years.  No,  I'll  be  industrious  instead,"  he 
added,  after  a  pause  during  which  he  waited  for  his 
wife  to  speak.  "  It  is  wrong  to  be  tempted  to  idleness 
by  this  perfect  weather." 

Eleanor  wished  to  suggest  staying  at  home  with 
him;  but  the  sense  of  the  morning's  disappointment 
was  still  strong,  and  the  words  did  not  come  easily. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  suggested  the  possibility 
of  laying  aside  his  work  to  join  them ;  a  very  little 
encouragement,  and  he  would  have  done  so.  Mildred 
remarked  on  this  later  with  some  surprise,  but  Eleanor, 
who  had  deeply  regretted  her  silence,  did  not  reply. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DARK   DAYS 

"Oh  !  dark,  dark,  dark,  amid  the  blaze  of  noon." 

—  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

THE  glorious  summer  days  contained  no  hint  of 
brightness  for  old  Mrs.  Lucas,  for  things  were  going 
badly  with  her  boy.  He  was  living  in  rooms  with 
Captain  Maitland,  and,  although  the  old  lady  recog- 
nized the  necessity  for  this,  it  did  not  cease  to  trouble 
her.  Jim  in  sorrow  was  bad  enough,  but  Jim  in 
sorrow,  and  away  from  her,  was  hard  to  bear.  Her 
husband  had  failed  rapidly  since  the  evening  of  his 
memorable  conversation  with  Jim.  His  attitude  of 
mind  was  that  of  a  child,  who  is  blamed  for  some 
entirely  unintentional  fault ;  he  realized  that  he  was 
in  some  measure  blamed  for  the  present  state  of 
affairs,  but  failed  to  understand  why.  He  would  sit 
for  hour  after  hour  in  his  library,  his  head  sunk  upon 
his  breast,  lost  in  gloomy  reflection. 

Mrs.  Lucas  did  her  best  to  rouse  him,  but  any  con- 
versation on  the  subject  was  invariably  brought  to  a 
conclusion  by  the  old  man's  often  repeated  cry :  — 

"  It  can't  make  any  difference !     All  I  have  will  be 

249 


250  TKEVOK.  LORDSHIP 

his !  I  can't  understand  what  all  this  pother  is 
about ! " 

It  seemed  impossible  to  explain,  so  Mrs.  Lucas  was 
obliged  to  avoid  the  topic.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  the  matter  nearest  her  heart  could  not  be  shared 
with  "  Father."  She  followed  every  detail  of  Jim's 
search  with  the  keenest  interest.  He  did  not  forget 
her ;  he  wrote  constantly  and  fully,  but  her  fond  eyes 
could  read  between  the  lines,  and  there  she  saw 
plainly  the  signs  of  the  heart-sickness  born  of  hope 
deferred. 

The  months  were  slipping  by,  and,  what  was 
worse,  the  seekers  were  getting  to  the  end  of  the 
information  upon  which  they  based  their  researches. 
Only  two  more  names  remained  upon  their  list,  only 
two  more  people  to  hunt  up,  as  likely  to  be  able  to 
help  them.  When  this  was  done,  if  these  two  people 
failed,  or  were  ignorant  or  uninterested,  they  were  at 
the  end  of  their  resources,  pulled  up  in  a  cul-de-sac 
from  which  there  seemed,  so  far  as  they  could  see,  no 
possible  outlet.  They  had  consulted  every  authority, 
tapped  every  possible  source  of  information.  After 
the  names  on  the  list,  they  could  hear  of  no  one  likely 
to  be  able  to  help  them. 

At  the  moment,  they  were  waiting  in  enforced 
idleness,  owing  to  a  delay  in  obtaining  the  addresses 
of  these  last  two  men. 

All  this  Jim  had  written  in  his  last  letter,  and 


DARK  DAYS  251 

she  was  longing  to  hear  more ;  schooling  herself  to 
patience  as  best  she  might.  She  had  not  Mildred's 
buoyant  hope  to  help  her,  for  she  told  herself  over 
and  over  again  that  Jim  was  attempting  the  im- 
possible. Was  the  secret  of  twenty  years  ago  to  be 
suddenly  disclosed  at  Jim's  call  ?  How  could  it  be  ? 
But  in  spite  of  this  conviction,  she  never  said  a  word 
to  dissuade  him,  and  more  than  that,  did  all  she 
could  to  help  him.  Time  enough  for  him  to  know 
that  his  quest  was  vain  when  it  failed;  as  fail  it 
must,  alas ! 

So  she  ordered  every  book  that  she  could  hear  of 
on  the  subject,  and  she  waded  through  them,  in  search 
of  she  knew  not  what !  A  name  she  did  not  know ! 
Did  she  expect  to  find  the  description  of  a  man  who 
sailed  away  in  1879,  or  thereabouts,  leaving  his  wife 
and  the  most  beautiful  boy  in  the  world  behind  him  ? 
Hardly !  But  the  fact  remains  that  she  toiled 
through  the  heavy  volumes,  jotting  down  every 
name  mentioned,  and  any  date  which  seemed  im- 
portant, and  posting  the  lists  off  to  Jim  with  unfailing 
regularity.  They  were  not  much  use  —  only  once 
did  she  send  a  name  with  which  Jim  and  Captain 
Maitland  were  not  already  familiar ;  but  she  felt  she 
was  doing  something ! 

But  it  took  time.  She  couldn't  get  through  the 
books  very  fast.  They  were  dull  reading,  most  of 
them,  and  the  hot  summer  days  were  very  trying. 


252  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

The  afternoons  which  began  in  serious  attention  to 
the  business  in  hand  often  ended  in  placid  slumber. 
The  volume  would  slip  from  the  old  lady's  knee  to 
the  ground,  her  spectacles  from  her  nose  to  her  lap, 
and  her  mind  would  drift  away  into  a  region  of 
dreamless  peace,  where  icefields  and  dangers  had  no 
being,  and  even  sorrow  was  unknown.  She  would 
wake  with  a  start,  resume  the  book  and  the  glasses,  and 
begin  again  with  honest  effort ;  with  the  same  result. 
This  afternoon,  however,  her  attention  did  not 
wander.  If  she  could  only  send  Jim  a  few  more 
names  before  these  last  interviews  were  over,  it 
would  give  him  something  to  go  on  with,  and  she 
read  and  compared  with  feverish  industry.  She  must 
consult  so  many  previous  lists ;  it  would  never  do  to 
send  Jim  the  same  name  twice  over. 

Meanwhile,  in  a  small,  close  room  in  London  sat 
Captain  Maitland.  The  blinds  were  drawn  down,  but 
the  pitiless  sun  seemed  to  laugh  at  such  feeble  de- 
fences, and  to  penetrate  into  every  corner.  Outside, 
the  very  street  itself  seemed  to  flicker  in  the  heat 
haze.  The  horses  trotted  dejectedly,  the  few  pedes- 
trians slouched  wearily.  The  heat  was  overwhelming, 
no  coolness  anywhere.  Inside  the  room  a  blue-bottle 
buzzed  irritatingly.  Its  activity  only  seemed  to  em- 
phasize the  prevailing  lethargy  which  hung  over 
everything. 


DAEK  DAYS  253 

Captain  Maitland  sat  erect  in  an  armchair,  his 
hands  clasped  upon  the  arras ;  every  now  and  then 
he  would  raise  his  handkerchief,  and  mop  the  heat 
from  his  forehead,  and  then  relapse  again  into  immo- 
bility. Only  his  lips  moved  from  time  to  time; 
hardly  forming  words,  but  with  a  pathetic  move- 
ment beyond  his  control.  His  eyes  were  clear  and 
grave.  The  tropical  weather  was  sapping  all  his  vi- 
tality ;  unused  as  he  was  to  cities,  it  affected  him  far 
more  than  it  would  a  Londoner;  but  he  would  not 
acknowledge  even  to  fatigue. 

Presently  there  was  a  sound  of  a  step  on  the  stairs. 
The  captain  raised  his  head,  alert  in  a  moment,  but 
shook  it  slightly  as  he  noticed  the  step  was  slow 
and  languid ;  not  swift  and  young  as  he  had  hoped  it 
might  be. 

"Well!  "  he  said,  rising,  as  Jim  entered.  "Have 
you  got  the  addresses  ?  " 

Jim  flung  his  straw  hat  on  the  table,  and,  walking 
to  the  sideboard,  mixed  himself  a  drink. 

"  Yes ! "  he  said,  with  a  curt  laugh ;  "  3567  Kensal 
Green  Cemetery ! " 

"  Dead !  "  ejaculated  the  Captain. 

"  Dead  !  "  echoed  the  younger  man. 

"And  the  other?" 

"  Alipur,  Elm  Road,  Putney." 

"  Oh,  that's  better.  That's  one,  at  any  rate,"  said 
the  Captain,  briskly.  Then,  laying  his  hand  on  Jim's 


254  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

shoulder,  "  Don't  despair,  dear  lad,"  he  added  kindly. 
"  Who  knows,  the  luck  may  be  with  us  yet !  Wait 
until  it's  a  little  cooler,  and  then  we'll  be  off." 

Jim  dropped  his  head  on  his  hands  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  raised  a  wan,  white  face.  The 
last  few  months  had  aged  him  double  the  number  of 
years. 

"  I'm  very  near  chucking  it,"  he  said  huskily. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  "  was  the  cheerful  rejoinder.  "  The 
weather's  a  trifle  trying,  I  confess  —  but  give  in? 
not  a  bit  of  it,  my  boy !  I'm  not  ready  for  that  for 
many  a  long  day !  I  tell  you  what  we'll  do ;  we'll 
go  along  to  Putney  this  evening,  and  who  knows  but 
that  we  may  happen  on  the  man  we're  hunting  for. 
If  not,  we'll  go  away  for  a  bit,  and  make  more  plans. 
Somewhere  out  of  this  furnace.  A  week  in  a  cool, 
shady  place  will  put  new  heart  into  us  !  I  want  to 
see  the  green  trees,  and  hear  the  rooks  calling." 

"I  shan't  go  to  ' Trevor  Lordship.'  I  can't  face 
Mildred  with  failure." 

"  There's  no  failure  to  be  faced  yet,"  retorted  the 
Captain,  sturdily.  "  But  never  mind,  we  won't  go 
to  t  Trevor/  then.'  Let's  go  down  the  river  somewhere 
for  a  week,  and  gain  strength  for  new  efforts." 

Jim  sat  on,  in  gloomy  silence,  until,  about  an  hour 
later,  the  Captain  rose. 

"Come  on,  my  boy,  we'll  have  another  shot. 
Heaven  send  we  meet  no  more  women !  Jove  !  we 


DAKK  DAYS  255 

raised  a  hornets'  nest  about  our  ears  last  time  !  I 
never  saw  such  a  virago  !  " 

Jim  smiled  at  the  recollection.  Then  he  drew 
himself  up  with  some  of  his  old  boyish  fun,  and, 
putting  on  an  exaggeratedly  pompous  manner,  he 
declaimed  in  staccato  tones  :  — 

"I  would  have  you  to  know,  gentlemen,  that  my  late 
husband  was  a  man  of  the  highest  honour !  He  had 
no  wife  but  me,  and  I  certainly  never  had  a  child! 
I  bid  you  good-morning  !  " 

Then  they  both  had  a  good  laugh,  and  felt  better. 

The  stairway  was  dark  and  fairly  cool,  but  the 
heat  rose  to  meet  them  like  a  solid  wall  as  they 
emerged  upon  the  street. 

"  The  top  of  a  'bus,  I  think,"  gasped  the  Captain, 
unfurling  a  huge  linen  umbrella.  "  We  may  get  a 
breath  of  air  there." 

They  crawled  along  through  the  baking  and  almost 
deserted  streets,  odorous  with  the  pungent  smell  of 
hot  wood  pavement,  until  they  reached  Putney 
Bridge.  Here  they  alighted,  and,  after  making 
various  enquiries,  found  themselves  in  Elm  Road;  a 
locality  of  staring  red  villas.  Passing  these,  they 
came  upon  one  or  two  houses  of  an  older  type,  and 
on  the  gate  of  one  of  these  was  clearly  printed 
"Alipur." 

The  door  was  opened  by  an  elderly  maid  servant, 
who  invited  them  to  enter.  "  Mr.  Wheeler  was  at 


256  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

home,"  she  said;  "would  they  please  to  walk  in." 
They  did  so,  and  found  themselves  in  a  low,  cool 
room,  looking  out  on  a  shady  garden. 

"  Ah !  this  is  better,"  said  Captain  Maitland,  grate- 
fully. "  A  pleasant  change  from  outside." 

A  minute  later,  a  man  entered,  and  greeted  them 
cordially.  He  was  short,  and  rather  stout,  with  a 
cheerful  cast  of  countenance,  and  a  merry  twinkle  in 
his  eye. 

"Very  pleased  to  see  you,  gentlemen,"  he  said 
heartily.  "  Come  into  the  garden  ;  it's  cooler  there. 
I've  been  in  the  tropics  half  my  life,  but  have  never 
been  hotter  in  the  past,  and  humbly  trust  I  shan't 
be  in  the  future!  DRINKS!!"  he  roared,  in  a 
stentorian  voice,  as  they  left  the  house. 

The  elderly  maid  looked  out  of  a  door  at  the  other 
end  of  the  corridor,  and  nodded.  She  was  accustomed 
to  his  tone,  it  would  seem,  for  she  showed  no  surprise, 
and  appeared  presently,  bearing  a  tray  of  various 
liquids,  syphons,  and  an  ice  bowl,  which  tinkled 
seductively. 

"  I  suppose  you've  come  for  something !  "  said  Mr. 
Wheeler,  chuckling.  "Everybody  wants  something 
in  this  world ;  paupers  to  prime  ministers,  all  alike  ! 
grab  !  grab  !  grab  !  But  don't  talk  about  it  till  you've 
had  a  drink.  Here,  young  man,  what'll  you  take  ? 
You  look  a  bit  crocked  up.  You  haven't  sampled  hot 
weather  in  Calcutta  as  often  as  I  have,  I'll  be  bound. 


DARK  DAYS  257 

Not  but  what  this  is  worse.  You  could  lambast  the 
punkah  coolie  there  if  you  felt  too  sultry !  " 

"  We  came  to  you  for  a  little  information,"  began 
Captain  Maitland,  pleasantly. 

"  If  I've  got  it,  you  shall  have  it,"  said  Mr.  Wheeler, 
jovially,  winking  at  Jim.  "  No  charge  made  !  Good 
advice  and  information  free  to  all." 

"  You  have  been,  I  think,  interested  in  Arctic 
exploration  ?  " 

"  Thunder  and  lightning  !  Not  a  bit  of  it !  "  was 
the  astonishing  reply.  "  You've  come  to  the  wrong 
shop,  sir !  Never  could  abide  the  cold,  and  am  only 
interested  in  ice  when  it's  in  a  tumbler !  " 

"  You  are  Mr.  J.  H.  Wheeler  ?  "  asked  Jim. 

"  James  Herbert  Wheeler,  late  Indian  Civil  Service. 
Son  of  one  Thomas  Wheeler,  born  at  Long  Stratton 
in  the  County  of  Norfolk,  age  sixty-one,  weight  14 
stone  6.  Anything  else  ?  "  he  enquired  pleasantly. 

The  Captain  consulted  a  note-book. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  have  made  a  mistake,"  he  said. 
"We  are  seeking  a  Mr.  J.  H.  Wheeler,  who,  as  I 
understand,  joined  an  Arctic  expedition  in  1880." 

"  Ah !  I  have  it,"  exclaimed  their  host,  slapping 
his  knee.  "John  Henry  Wheeler,  born  September, 
1847,  died  October,  1887.  My  brother,  sir." 

"  And  he  is  dead  ?  "  asked  Jim. 

"  Dead  as  a  door  nail  these  ten  years  or  more,"  was 
the  cheerful  reply.  "  Good  fellow,  John  Henry,  but 


258  TKEVOB,  LOKDSHIP 

a  bit  too  scientific  for  me !  What  did  you  want  with 
him?" 

"  My  young  friend,  here,  has  reason  to  believe  that 
his  father  took  part  in  an  expedition  between  the 
years  1879  and  1883,  and  we  hoped  your  brother 
might  have  been  able  to  assist  us." 

"  What  was  your  father's  name  ?  " 

Jim  gave  a  short  account  of  his  circumstances, 
and  the  search  on  which  they  wrere  engaged. 

"  Oh !  want  a  father,  do  you  ?  Well,  you  may 
take  it  from  me  it  wasn't  old  John  Henry.  Couldn't 
abide  women  —  never  spoke  to  one  in  his  life.  And 
he'd  have  told  me !  We  lived  together  five  years 
before  he  died,  and  we  were  very  good  friends.  But 
it  might  have  been  a  shipmate  of  his,  of  course." 

"  Is  there  any  record  of  his  journeys  ? "  asked 
Captain  Maitland. 

"  Oh,  yes,  bless  me,  of  course  there  is  !  You  shall 
have  it  —  I'll  get  it,"  and  he  rose  and  went  into  the 
house. 

"We  may  perhaps  find  some  fresh  names,"  said 
the  Captain,  trying  to  speak  hopefully,  as  Jim  sat 
miserably  silent.  He  had  built  so  much  on  this  last 
.interview  bringing  them  luck. 

"  Here  are  the  diaries,  my  dear  sir  ! "  vociferated 
Mr.  Wheeler,  as  he  returned.  "  Four  of  'em,  chock  full 
of  writing.  Take  'em  with  you,  and  let  me  have  'em 
back  when  you're  done  with  'em.  Ever  been  in  India, 
-sir?" 


DAEK  DAYS  259 

"  No,"  replied  Captain  Maitland,  absently. 

Then  his  interlocutor  started  off  at  a  tangent. 

"  Ah !  great  country,  India,  but  spoilt  since  the 
good  old  days  of  John  Company.  Those  were  the 
days  for  making  fortunes.  Why,  my  father,  sir, 
he  had  a  fleet  of  ships  that  traded  for  old  John 
Company  all  through  the  Islands,  and  the  money 
rolled  in,  positively  rolled  in  !  But  things  are  altered 
now.  Very  polite  to  the  wily  native  nowadays  — 
educate  him  —  dress  him  —  flatter  him  —  and  what 
will  be  the  result?  It'll  be  the  Mutiny  over  again, 
my  dear  sir,  only  ten  times  worse,  if  possible.  Have 
another  drink,  sir,  have  another  drink  !  " 

They  left  the  garrulous  old  man  at  last,  standing 
at  his  gate,  and  still  shouting  after  them,  as  they 
walked  away  homewards.  Not  a  word  was  spoken 
on  their  return  journey,  and  later  in  the  evening 
they  sat,  still  in  silence,  each  perusing  different 
volumes  of  the  diary.  Occasionally  they  made  a 
note,  or  referred  to  a  note-book,  but  no  word  was 
spoken.  They  each  examined  two  volumes,  and  the 
clock  of  a  neighbouring  church  was  striking  the  hour 
of  midnight  before  they  had  finished  the  task. 

"  No  luck,  my  boy  !  "  said  the  Captain,  sadly. 

"  None  at  all,"  agreed  Jim,  as  he  swung  himself 
round  to  the  table,  wearily,  and  rested  his  head 
on  his  folded  arms. 

"  Don't  give  in,  dear  lad !     Don't  give  in,"  urged 


260  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

the  old  man,  kindly.  "  We  haven't  got  to  the 
bottom  of  it  yet,  but  we  shall ;  I'm  sure  we  shall 
We'll  go  away  to-morrow  and  get  cool,  and  start 
afresh  next  week." 

He  looked  at  the  lad  anxiously  as  he  spoke,  but 
for  a  while  there  was  no  answer. 

Suddenly,  Jim  raised  himself,  and  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

"  I'll  be  shot  if  I  give  it  up !  "  he  cried.  "  I'll  be 
damned  if  I  do  ! " 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  said  his  companion,  softly.  "  Now 
come  on  to  bed." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A  VISIT  TO  LONDON 

"  For  half  the  evil  on  earth  is  invented 

By  vain  pretty  women  with  nothing  to  do, 
But  to  keep  themselves  manicured,  powdered,  and  scented, 
And  to  seek  for  sensations  amusing  and  new." 

—  ELLA  WHEELER  WILCOX. 

IF  the  weeks  that  had  passed  had  been  hard  for 
Jim,  experience  taught  him  that  fate  held  others  in 
the  future  which  were  harder  still.  It  had  been  bad 
enough  while,  even  if  there  had  not  been  success, 
there  had  at  least  been  action;  but  now  came  a 
period  of  enforced  inaction,  when  he  could  do  nothing 
but  sit  with  folded  hands,  eating  his  heart  out  with 
disappointment  and  longing.  The  week  for  which 
he  and  Captain  Maitland  had  originally  left  London 
had  lengthened  more  and  more.  While  there  was  no 
possible  clue  to  follow,  the  Captain  judged  it  better 
to  stay  where  change  of  scene  oiled  the  clogged 
wheels  of  time,  and  relieved,  if  ever  so  slightly,  the 
pressure  of  their  heavy  thoughts.  For  a  while  this 
seemed  to  serve  the  purpose ;  then  Jim  became  rest- 
less and  mutinous,  and  they  returned  to  London. 

August   and   part  of  September  had  dragged  out 

261 


262  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

their  weary  days.  A  cloud  hung,  not  only  over  this 
circle  of  friends  whose  happiness  seemed  buried  with 
a  secret  in  the  past,  but  over  the  whole  of  England. 
For  the  clouds  of  war,  which  had  been  massing  on 
the  horizon,  were  just  now  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer,  ever  more  threatening  as  they  advanced. 
Even  the  most  optimistic  began  to  acknowledge  that 
those  who  had  held  a  contrary  opinion  to  themselves, 
whom  they  had  ridiculed  as  croakers,  might  be 
correct  in  their  gloomy  forebodings,  after  all.  A 
feeling  of  suspense  was  in  the  air. 

Sir  Henry,  who  had,  as  we  know,  never  been 
optimistic,  watched  keenly  every  symptom,  and  noted 
every  beat  of  the  national  pulse.  Even  his  books 
appeared  to  have  lost  their  attraction,  in  the  absorb- 
ing interest  of  the  daily  papers. 

Eleanor  strove  hard  to  combat  the  depression  of 
spirit  which  was  weighing  on  them,  one  and  all; 
with  the  exception  of  little  Joan,  who,  childlike,  was 
unaffected  by  it.  She  watched  Mildred  growing 
whiter  and  more  silent  every  day,  with  deep  concern  ; 
and  at  last,  feeling  that  the  suspense  was  affecting 
the  girl's  health,  and  that  some  change  was  impera- 
tive, suggested  that  she  should  go  to  stay  with 
Mrs.  Lucas  for  a  time.  The  old  lady  was  delighted, 
and,  although  Mildred  was  very  loath  to  go,  Eleanor 
insisted  that  it  was  best.  And  she  was  proved  to 
have  been  right.  The  two  women,  old  and  young, 


A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  268 

had  but  one  thought,  one  name  trembled  ever  on 
their  lips,  one  face  was  ever  before  their  eyes.  This 
common  sadness  proved  a  bond  to  draw  them  to- 
gether, and  they  were  able,  in  a  measure,  to  console 
each  other,  as  Eleanor  had  hoped. 

Meanwhile,  in  addition  to  her  concern  on  Mildred's 
account,  Eleanor  was  full  of  anxiety  with  regard  to 
her  sister-in-law.  Since  her  hurried  visit  to  '  Trevor 
Lordship '  in  the  summer,  Minnie  had  seldom  written, 
and  had  never  mentioned  anything  which  might 
account  for  the  distress  she  had  shown  then.  And 
her  silence  seemed  to  Eleanor  very  unsatisfactory. 
She  had  repeatedly  written  both  to  Mrs.  Trevor  and 
Minnie,  inviting  them  to  pay  her  a  visit,  but  had 
only  received  excuses  in  reply.  Minnie  either  could 
not  or  would  not  come.  After  her  last  invitation, 
she  had  heard  nothing  for  some  weeks,  but  at  last, 
one  morning  early  in  October,  the  long-expected 
letter  arrived.  Four  sheets  of  note-paper,  of  the 
latest  fashionable  shade,  covered  with  Minnie's  large, 
sprawling  handwriting,  thickly  underlined. 

Eleanor  found  it  very  difficult  to  make  head  or  tail 
of  the  sense  it  was  intended  to  convey,  but  here  and 
there  a  phrase  was  comprehendible.  "  I  could  not 
have  believed  he  would  behave  like  this  "  !  !  "I  have 
been  a  fool  "  ! !  lt  Come  to  me  at  once,  but  whatever 
you  do,  don't  tell  a  soul  "  ! !  "Who  '  he  '  was,  and 
how  '  he '  had  behaved  Eleanor  could  not  imagine  > 


264  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

but  one  thing  was  clear,  she  must  go  to  Minnie  with- 
out delay. 

Sir  Henry  was  standing  in  the  hall,  reading  the 
newspaper,  as  she  came  out  of  the  dining-room. 

"  Things  look  bad ;  very  bad ! "  he  muttered,  as 
his  wife  approached. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  surprised,"  she  said ;  "  but 
I  must  go  to  London  to-day." 

"  To  London ! "  he  repeated,  in  astonishment  at 
such  a  sudden  departure  from  the  quiet  routine  of 
their  days. 

"  Yes ;  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Minnie.  She  asks 
me  to  go  to  her  at  once." 

"  Does  she  give  any  reason  for  the  summons  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Eleanor,  hesitating ;  "  but  —  she 
binds  me  to  secrecy.  I  do  not  know  very  much,  but 
what  I  do  know,  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"Ah  !  I  understand.  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  go. 
Shall  I  come  with  you,  or  would  you  rather  go  alone?  " 
But  before  Eleanor  could  reply,  he  added,  "Perhaps 
under  the  circumstances  I  had  better  not  come." 

u  I  think  I  had  better  go  alone,"  she  agreed. 

"  You  will  want  to  catch  the  express,"  he  said.  "I 
will  go  and  order  the  carriage." 

When  Eleanor  was  ready  to  start,  about  an  hour 
later,  she  found  him  at  the  hall  door. 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  go,"  he  said  again. 
"  When  do  you  think  you  will  be  back  ?  " 


A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  265 

"To-morrow,  I  hope.  Or  perhaps  the  following 
day.  I  will  let  you  know." 

"Send  me  news  of  your  safe  arrival,"  he  said ;  and, 
as  he  helped  her  into  the  waiting  carriage,  he  added, 
in  a  low  voice,  "Come  back  soon.  We  shall  miss 
you  so  much." 

Eleanor  repeated  the  words  over  and  over  again  to 
herself,  as  she  was  driven  quickly  down  the  avenue. 
If  he  missed  her,  as  he  said,  perhaps  they  could  draw 
nearer  to  each  other  on  her  return.  The  thought 
almost  consoled  her  for  going  away.  She  dreaded 
the  interview  with  Minnie.  She  wanted  to  help  her 
if  she  could,  but  she  had  an  inward  conviction  that 
to  do  so  would  entail  something  distasteful,  some- 
thing to  which  she  would  feel  unequal.  She  had  no 
confidence  in  her  own  powers  of  managing  anything 
outside  her  own  sphere  and  experience,  and  Minnie's 
mode  of  life  and  surroundings  were,  she  felt,  an  un- 
known quantity.  The  whole  affair  seemed  vaguely 
full  of  disagreeable  possibilities.  When  she  arrived 
at  the  railway  station,  she  found  she  had  twenty 
minutes  to  spare. 

"  Go  to  the  post-office,  and  ask  for  the  second  post 
letters,"  she  said  to  the  footman.  "  Bring  them  to 
me  here." 

She  entered  the  train,  which  was  standing  at 
the  platform,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  man  re- 
turned. 


266  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"Those  are  yours,  m'  lady/'  he  said.  "The  rest 
are  for  Sir  Henry." 

"  I  will  telegraph  if  I  wish  to  be  met  to-morrow," 
she  said,  as  she  dismissed  him. 

As  the  train  drew  out  of  the  station,  she  looked 
absently  at  the  letters  she  held  in  her  hand.  There 
were  only  three  or  four,  and  a  small  parcel  bearing  a 
Scotch  postmark,  and  addressed  in  Mrs.  Mollison's 
handwriting,  with  which  she  was  familiar.  After 
opening  the  letters,  which  proved  quite  unimportant, 
she  locked  the  parcel  up  in  her  bag.  She  could  at- 
tend to  it  later.  Then  she  established  herself  in  a 
corner  seat,  and  gave  herself  up  to  her  thoughts. 

Every  turn  of  the  wheels  seemed  to  carry  her  fur- 
ther from  all  she  held  dear.  She  wished  with  all  her 
heart  she  had  allowed  her  husband  to  accompany  her. 
What  in  the  world  could  Minnie  want?  Any  one 
more  worldly  wise  would  have  jumped  at  once  to 
the  conclusion  that  Minnie's  difficulties  were  financial, 
but  Eleanor  was  too  unsophisticated.  Before  she 
married,  her  small  allowance  had  been  sufficient  for 
her  wants,  or  rather,  perhaps,  her  wants  had  been 
regulated  by  her  allowance.  It  would  never  have 
struck  her  that  it  could  be  otherwise.  If  you  couldn't 
afford  a  thing,  you  did  without  it ;  it  was  quite 
simple  —  to  her  !  A  society  where  the  fashion  of  the 
garment  is  in  no  way  dependent  upon  the  quantity 
of  material  available  was  unimagined  by  her. 


A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  267 

Honest  poverty  among  the  working  classes,  and  even 
among  the  gentry,  she  of  course  understood ;  but  she 
had  never  met  with  that  poverty  which  comes  from 
living  above  your  income.  So  this  possible  solution 
of  the  riddle  never  entered  her  mind. 

Mrs.  Trevor  was  dozing  in  the  drawing-room  when 
Eleanor  was  announced. 

"  You !"  ejaculated  the  old  lady,  in  surprise. 
"  Where  did  you  spring  from  ?  " 

Eleanor  was  taken  aback  for  a  moment ;  then  she 
understood  the  part  she  was  expected  to  play. 

"  I  have  come  to  London  on  business,  for  a  day  or 
two,"  she  replied.  "  So  I  thought  I  should  like  to 
come  and  see  you  and  Minnie." 

She  tried  to  speak  naturally,  as  if  a  flying  visit  to 
town  was  a  mere  trifle.  To  her  it  was  about  as  seri- 
ous an  undertaking  as  St.  Petersburg  or  Constanti- 
nople would  have  been  to  most  people. 

"  Where  are  you  staying  ?  " 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  put 
me  up.  I  ain  sorry  I  could  not  let  you  know,  but  I 
was  obliged  to  come  at  a  moment's  notice." 

Eleanor  felt  she  could  not  give  Minnie  away.  Mrs. 
Trevor  had  evidently  been  told  nothing;  but  it  was 
too  bad  of  her  sister-in-law  to  let  her  in  like  this. 

"Of  course  we  can  put  you  up,"  said  Mrs.  Trevor; 
and  then  she  continued,  in  much  agitation,  "  I  can't 
understand  what  is  the  matter  with  Minnie.  I  haven't 


268  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

seen  her  since  we  came  back  from  Lady  Seymour's, 
two  days  ago.  I  have  been  to  her  door,  but  she 
won't  let  me  in.  I  begged  her  to  see  a  doctor;  I'm 
sure  she  can't  be  well ;  but  she  won't  answer  me. 
The  maid  tells  me  she  says  she  wishes  to  be  left 
alone.  I'm  quite  distracted  about  her !  "  The  old 
lady  sniffed  tearfully.  "  I  wish  you  would  reason 
with  her ;  but  I'm  sure  she  won't  see  you." 

At  this  moment  a  maid  entered. 

"  Mrs.  Ross  heard  Lady  Trevor  arrive.  She  says 
will  her  ladyship  please  go  to  her  at  once." 

"  I  can't  understand  it,"  said  Mrs.  Trevor,  feebly. 
"  She  won't  see  me,  and  yet  she  will  see  you !  What 
does  it  mean  ?  " 

Eleanor  followed  the  maid  upstairs.  As  the  door 
opened,  and  she  entered,  Minnie  rose  from  the  depths 
of  an  arm-chair  where  she  had  been  crouching  miser- 
ably. 

"  Oh !  you  have  come  at  last,"  she  said,  in  a  tone 
of  great  relief.  "  I  thought  you  were  never 
coming." 

Her  face  was  disfigured  with  crying ;  she  looked 
worn  and  wretched.  The  tea-gown  she  wore  was 
crumpled  and  disarranged.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  Minnie  was  past  considering  her  appearance  ! 

"  I  came  as  quickly  as  I  could,"  replied  Eleanor. 
"  I  only  got  your  letter  this  morning." 

"  Oh !  you  don't  know  what  I  have  been  through  ! " 


A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  269 

Minnie  cried  wildly.  "  But  now  you  are  here,  you 
must  help  me.  You  simply  must ! " 

"  I  will  if  I  can." 

"  How  was  I  to  know  Toby  would  behave  like  a 
cad ;  a  perfect  cad !  We  have  been  pals  for  years, 
and  then  he  turns  on  me  like  this.  He  must  know 
why  I  can't  have  any  more  to  do  with  that  odious 
man !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  Mr.  Vane-Talbert  ?  What  has  he 
been  doing?" 

"  He  declares  he'll  show  the  letter  to  Hugh,  if  I 
don't  do  what  he  wants,"  sobbed  Minnie,  desperately. 
"  And  you  know  what  Hugh  is  !  It  would  kill  me  ! 
Hugh  is  most  awfully  straight.  He  wouldn't  under- 
stand it  at  all." 

"  My  dear  Minnie,"  said  Eleanor,  breaking  into 
this  tirade,  "  how  do  you  expect  me  to  understand  ? 
What  letter  is  he  going  to  show  to  your  husband  ? 
Is  it  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes !  I  never  thought  anything  of  it  when  I 
wrote  it !  I've  always  been  very  fond  of  Toby,  and 
I  thought  he  was  fond  of  me.  But  of  course,  if  Hugh 
reads  it,  he  will  see  it  in  quite  a  different  light !  " 

"What  was  the  letter  about?"  asked  Eleanor, 
sternly. 

"  About  old  Brandt ;  but  I  didn't  mention  his 
name." 

Eleanor  was  still  completely  at  sea.     She  began  to 


270  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

feel  at  the  end  of  her  patience.  Rising  from  her  seat, 
she  took  the  younger  woman  by  the  arm. 

"  Get  up  from  the  floor,  Minnie.  You  are  behaving 
like  a  perfect  baby !  Stop  crying  at  once,  and  try 
and  tell  me  the  whole  story." 

Minnie  rose,  and  stood  with  her  elbows  resting  on 
the  mantelpiece,  and  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands. 
Seeing  that  she  was  trying  to  control  herself,  Eleanor 
did  not  speak  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  I  don't  like  to  tell  you.  I  have  been  a  perfect 
fool !  You  will  be  fearfully  shocked,"  said  Minnie, 
at  last. 

Eleanor  thought  it  was  extremely  likely,  but  she 
said  nothing.  She  felt  a  sensation  as  of  cold  water 
running  down  her  spine. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  began  Minnie,  speaking  very  fast 
and  low,  "  all  last  year  I  was  very  good  friends  with 
old  Brandt.  Of  course,  he's  not  a  gentleman,  or 
anything  like  one,  but  he  was  very  civil  and  very 
useful.  He's  one  of  these  South  African  finance 
people,  and  he  used  to  give  me  tips.  I  made  a  heap 
of  money.  And  then,  three  or  four  months  ago,  he 
insulted  me,  and  said  the  most  awful  things,  and  I 
simply  couldn't  have  any  more  to  do  with  him. 
I  didn't  dare !  And  Toby  has  been  furious  !  " 

"  What  has  Mr.  Vane-Talbert  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  He  went  in  with  me,  you  see.  I  hadn't  got  the 
money  to  start  with,  and  Toby  and  I  went  shares. 


A   VISIT  TO  LONDON  271 

Of  course  Brandt  didn't  know.  And  when  I  couldn't 
get  any  more  tips  from  Brandt,  Toby  was  furious, 
He  says  he  is  hard  up,  and  wants  the  money.  But 
I  daren't ! "  Minnie  turned  round  passionately.  "  I 
simply  daren't." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Brandt  took  your  money  and 
speculated  with  it  ?  " 

"  Sometimes.  And  sometimes  he  would  say  he 
had  bought  shares  for  me,  and  he'd  let  me  know  the 
result.  But  they  always  went  up.  Never  down.  He 
was  awfully  clever.  Sometimes  —  generally  —  he'd 
tell  me  what  to  buy,  and  then  I  used  to  tell  Toby." 

"Well?" 

"  Of  course,  Toby  was  a  pal  of  mine,  and  I  was 
very  glad  to  do  him  a  good  turn.  But  when  Brandt 
got  impossible,  I  had  to  stop." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  impossible  ?  " 

"  He  tried  to  make  love  to  me.  Oh,  Eleanor !  we 
had  an  awful  scene.  I  had  been  dining  with  him  at 
the  Savoy,  —  of  course  I  was  a  fool  to  go,  but  I  wanted 
some  money  badly  just  then,  —  and  he  told  me  the 
last  transaction  had  gone  wrong,  and  I  owed  him  two 
hundred  pounds.  I  felt  pretty  sick,  but  I  didn't  say 
anything  much.  Then  he  said  he'd  drive  me  home 
in  his  brougham,  and  as  soon  as  we  started  he  tried 
to  kiss  me,  and  insulted  me.  I  was  furious,  and 
showed  it.  Dirty  beast !  And  then  he  said  the 
most  awful  things !  " 


272  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"What  sort  of  things?" 

"  Well,  he  virtually  told  me  I  was  no  better  than  I 
ought  to  be !  That  all  I  wanted  was  to  get  money 
out  of  him  without  paying  for  it,  and  that  as  soon  as 
he  suggested  an  honest  bargain,  I  said  he  insulted  me ! " 

Eleanor's  face  had  grown  whiter  and  whiter,  but 
she  did  not  speak,  and  Minnie  continued: — 

"  I  told  Toby  we  couldn't  make  any  more  money, 
that  I  couldn't  speak  to  Brandt  again;  but  he  said  it 
was  nonsense,  and  that  I'd  got  to.  Nothing  that  I 
could  say  would  make  him  see  that  it  was  impossible. 
At  last  I  wrote  to  him.  I  never  thought  of  what  I 
was  writing.  That  was  when  I  came  up  to  you. 
The  next  morning  I  got  a  perfectly  brutal  letter  from 
him,  saying  that  if  I  didn't  do  what  he  wanted,  he'd 
send  the  letter  to  Hugh,  and  tell  him  all  kinds  of 
things ! " 

"And  since  then?"  asked  Eleanor.  "That  is 
months  ago." 

"  I've  only  seen  him  once.  He's  been  yachting. 
And  when  I  did  see  him,  it  wasn't  any  use  —  and 
yesterday  morning  I  got  this !  " 

Eleanor  took  the  paper  which  Minnie  held  out. 
It  was  only  a  few  lines. 

I   will  come  and  see   you  on morning.     This  matter 

must  be  settled  once  and  for  all.     I  don't  want  to  be  disagree- 
able, but  if  you  won't  be  reasonable,  I  have  no  alternative. 

C.  V.-T. 


A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  273 

"  You're  shocked,  I  know,"  said  Minnie,  miserably. 

"  Shocked !  Of  course  I  am !  We  won't  talk 
about  that  now.  Do  you  remember  what  you  wrote 
in  the  letter  ?" 

"Only  vaguely.  I  said,  'If  you  love  me,  you 
won't  ask  me  to  speak  to  that  man  again.  I'll  do 
anything  in  the  world  you  ask  me,  except  that.' ' 

"  How  did  you  sign  it  ?  " 

" l  Your  loving  Minnie,'  I  think.  That  didn't  mean 
anything.  I  have  often  done  that  to  my  pals." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Brandt  ?  " 

"No."  ' 

"  Have  you  paid  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  How  could  I  ?  I  haven't  got  the  money. 
Besides,  he  doesn't  want  it ;  he's  got  plenty.  I  don't 
believe  he  ever  lost  it ! "  Minnie  added  viciously. 

Then  she  flung  herself  on  her  knees  beside  Eleanor. 
"You  will  help  me,  won't  you?  You  are  the  only 
person  who  can  help  me."  Then,  as  Eleanor  did  not 
answer,  she  added  under  her  breath,  "  I'm  sorry,  you 
know  I'm  sorry !  " 

"What  are  you  sorry  for?"  asked  Eleanor,  suddenly. 

Minnie  was  startled. 

"  I  -  "  she  faltered,  "I  —  am  sorry  —  to  bother  you 
over  this  wretched  business.  I'm  sorry  I've  been  such 
a  fool." 

Eleanor  rose,  disregarding  the  crouching  figure  at 
her  feet. 


274  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  You  are  sorry/'  she  said  sternly,  "  because  you 
have,  as  you  call  it,  got  into  a  hole ;  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  are  sorry  for  the  degrading  part  you  have 
played  in  the  whole  thing !  I  don't  believe  you  have 
ever  thought  about  that." 

Minnie  rose  to  her  feet,  and  gasped !  Eleanor 
was  standing  very  straight,  her  hands  clenched  at 
her  sides,  her  face  flushed  with  the  force  of  her  in- 
dignation. 

"  Have  you  thought  of  it  ?  "  she  demanded.  "Brandt 
was  right  when  he  said  you  were  not  an  honest  woman ! 
What  could  be  more  dishonest  than  making  friends 
with  an  impossible  man,  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
make  money  out  of  him.  Taking  money  from  him, 
for  that  is  what  it  comes  to  in  plain  English  !  I  don't 
wonder  he  asked  what  you  were  prepared  to  give  in 
return !  What  could  be  more  degrading  than  to  al- 
low a  man  to  be  on  such  terms  that  the  very  idea  of 
your  husband  looking  at  one  of  the  letters,  frightens 
you  ?  I  don't  wonder  you  were  frightened  when  you 
thought  Hugh  was  coming  home." 

For  the  first  time  since  Eleanor  could  remember, 
her  temper  was  getting  the  better  of  her.  The  whole 
sordid  story  had  so  sickened  and  disgusted  her  that  she 
was  filled  with  hot  indignation.  Then  she  paused  for 
a  moment,  as  a  thought  struck  her  and  she  asked:  — 

"  Do  you  care  for  Mr.  Vane-Talbert  ?  " 

Minnie  began  to  cry  again. 


A  VISIT  TO  LONDON  275 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  never  see  him  again.  He  and  I 
were  very  good  friends.  He  liked  to  go  about  with 
me,  and  he  was  amusing." 

"  Amusing !  I  think  amusement  is  the  only  thing 
you  care  for  in  the  world.  Your  husband's  honour 
doesn't  seem  to  have  the  slightest  value  for  you!" 

"  I  have  never  —  "  began  Minnie,  hotly. 

"  I  daresay  not !  But  do  you  think  your  husband 
would  think  it  was  consistent  with  his  honour  that 
his  wife  should  be  seen  alone  in  all  sorts  of  places 
with  a  common  money-lender  ?  Or  to  sign  herself  to 
another  man  as  '  Your  loving  Minnie/  and  to  appeal 
to  his  love  for  her  as  the  strongest  argument  she 
could  use  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  it  like  that ! " 

"  You  wrote  it,  whichever  way  you  meant  it." 

"  I  didn't  mean  any  harm,"  pleaded  Minnie. 

"  My  dear  Minnie  !  are  you  a  child,  or  a  full-grown 
woman?  You  can't  plead  thoughtlessness,  because 
you  had  no  business  to  be  thoughtless.  Of  course 
you  don't  think !  You  don't  think  of  anything  ex- 
cept enjoying  yourself,  and  you  see  the  result!" 

There  was  silence  as  Eleanor  stopped  speaking. 
She  felt  a  little  sorry  she  had  spoken  so  strongly. 
After  all,  Minnie's  surroundings  were  as  much  to 
blame  as  she  herself.  Her  life  had  been  spent  in 
the  society  of  people  who  cared  for  money  and 
amusement  only.  They  had  been,  as  it  were,  her 


276  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

only  education.  Eleanor  felt  the  blame  rested  partly 
on  Hugh  Ross.  He  must  have  known  the  sort  of 
woman  he  had  married.  He  was  years  older  than 
she  was.  Why  couldn't  he  look  after  her  ?  Why 
didn't  he  insist  on  her  staying  with  him,  or  come 
home,  and  prevent  her  getting  into  these  abominable 
situations?  Eleanor  herself  was  trying  to  think  what 
was  the  best  thing  to  be  done.  Her  first  idea  was  to 
send  for  her  husband ;  but  no  !  she  could  not  do  that. 
She  knew  enough  of  his  character  to  know  that  he 
held  extremely  strong  opinions  on  matters  like  this. 
He  would  be  just  as  disgusted  as  she  was. 

She  looked  round  the  room,  which,  as  rooms  do, 
reflected  so  plainly  the  mind  of  its  occupant.  The 
dressing-table,  loaded  with  costly  silver  and  fashion- 
able aids  to  the  toilet.  The  bed,  with  its  silken 
hangings,  and  exquisite  embroidered  coverlet;  the 
comfortable  chairs,  the  piles  of  scented  cushions,  all 
seemed  to  her  to  tell  a  tale  of  indolence  and  luxury 
which  could  only  breed  laxness  of  moral  fibre.  Photo- 
graphs were  everywhere  —  on  the  walls,  on  the  tables 
—  on  the  mantelpiece  —  quantities  of  them,  and  all, 
with  a  very  few  exceptions,  of  men !  And  in  the  way 
a  trivial  thing  strikes  you  even  in  your  most  earnest 
moments,  Eleanor  found  herself  wondering  how  Min- 
nie could  undress  and  go  to  bed  in  such  publicity,  and 
then  blushed  at  the  thought! 

"  You  will  do  it,  won't  you  ?  "  said  Minnie,  at  last. 


A  VISIT  TO   LONDON  277 

"Do  what?" 

"  Get  my  letter  back  from  Toby !  He  is  coming 
to-morrow.  You  will  see  him,  won't  you,  Eleanor  ? 
He  would  give  it  you  at  once,  if  you  asked  him." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ? " 

"I  am  sure  he  would,"  said  Minnie.  "He  would 
not  dare  to  refuse.  You  are  not  the  sort  of  woman 
a  man  would  dare  to  threaten." 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Eleanor.  "  I  don't  know  if  I 
shall  be  successful." 

Then  she  rose,  and  left  the  room ;  returning  after 
a  few  minutes  with  a  cheque  for  two  hundred  pounds, 
which  she  handed  to  Minnie.  Minnie  looked  at  it  in 
surprise. 

"  Pay  this  into  your  bank,  and  draw  a  cheque  to 
Brandt  for  the  amount,"  said  Eleanor,  quietly.  "That 
is  the  first  thing  to  be  settled." 

"  Oh,  Eleanor !     How  can  I  take  it  ?" 

"  It  is  not  Henry's ;  it  is  some  private  money  of  my 
own.  You  need  not  mind  taking  it.  You  cannot 
remain  under  an  obligation  to  Brandt  for  another 
day." 

Eleanor's  habitual  calmness  of  manner  had  re- 
turned to  her,  and  she  dictated  the  few  words  to  be 
enclosed  with  the  cheque.  Then  she  rang  the  bell, 
and  desired  the  maid  to  post  the  two  letters  herself, 
without  delay. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ELEANOR  INTERVENES 

"  Foul  deeds  will  rise, 
Though  all  the  world  o'erwhelm  them,  to  men's  eyes." 

—  Hamlet. 

IT  was  very  easy  for  Minnie  to  say  that  Eleanor 
would  have  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the  letter  from 
Vane-Talbert,  but  Eleanor  herself  was  not  at  all  of 
the  same  opinion. 

When,  at  last,  after  a  most  trying  evening  spent 
alone  with  Mrs.  Trevor,  she  gained  the  welcome  soli- 
tude of  her  own  room,  she  was  overcome  with  the 
most  acute  nervousness  at  the  thought  of  the  inter- 
view. In  vain  she  paced  up  and  down,  trying  to 
think  what  words  she  should  use,  what  arguments 
she  should  bring  to  bear,  and  —  awful  thought — 
what  she  should  do  if  he  refused  her  demand. 

She  had  a  constitutional  horror  of  anything  ap- 
proaching a  scene.  If  Vane-Talbert  proved  unyield- 
ing or  insolent,  she  was  sure  she  would  be  much  too 
frightened  even  to  argue  with  him;  she  had  no 
means  of  compelling  him  to  restore  the  letter,  and 
cease  his  persecution  of  Minnie.  Of  course,  if  he  was 
a  gentleman,  he  would  at  once  see  that  the  proper 

278 


ELEANOR  INTERVENES  279 

thing  to  do  was  to  hand  it  to  her  at  once,  and  go ; 
but  gentlemanly  conduct  was  hardly  to  be  expected 
from  a  man  who  could  stoop  to  use  a  woman's  folly 
as  a  means  of  making  money !  She  had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  shirking  the  encounter,  but  she 
felt  as  if  she  were  going  unarmed,  and  hampered  by 
inexperience  and  fright,  to  meet  an  opponent  who 
would  be  armed  at  all  points.  If  only  she  had  some 
weapon  with  which  to  meet  him !  Never  had  she  so 
longed  for  her  husband.  She  ha$  only  to  send  for 
him,  that  she  knew ;  but  she  could  not  do  so.  No ! 
she  must  manage  this  by  herself.  In  the  first  place, 
she  could  not  betray  Minnie,  and  in  the  second,  she 
could  not  cause  him  the  pain  he  would  suffer  through 
the  knowledge  of  his  sister's  folly.  How  in  the  world 
a  woman  could  act  with  such  a  lack  of  dignity,  of 
common  sense !  The  whole  thing  was  so  vulgar,  so 
degrading. 

At  last,  conscious  that  her  thoughts  were  whirling 
in  a  circle,  and  to  no  purpose,  she  sat  down  and  tried 
to  control  herself  to  a  period  of  quiet,  before  going  to 
bed.  She  took  off  the  necklace  and  brooches  she  was 
wearing,  and  opened  her  bag,  which  was  on  a  small 
table  beside  her,  in  order  to  lock  them  away.  As  she 
did  so,  she  remembered  the  packet  which  had  come 
by  post  that  day.  She  would  open  it  now.  It  would 
serve  to  distract  her  thoughts  from  the  unpleasant 
subject  upon  which  they  were  centred. 


280  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Inside  the  outer  wrapper,  she  found  another  packet, 
tied  with  ribbon,  and  endorsed,  "  To  be  given  to  Lady 
Trevor,"  in  Constance's  handwriting;  and  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Mollison,  to  the  effect  that  the  enclosed 
had  been  found  in  a  desk  which  she  had  only  just  ex- 
amined. She  apologized  for  the  delay,  but  she  had 
not  had  the  heart  to  touch  it  sooner.  She  had  not 
known  that  it  contained  anything  for  Lady  Trevor. 

Eleanor  untied  the  ribbon,  and  opened  the  little 
packet.  All  that  was  left  of  a  life's  tragedy !  A 
pitiful  little  collection !  The  tears  rose  in  Eleanor's 
eyes  as  she  looked.  A  baby's  knitted  sock  —  a  soft 
curl  of  dark  hair  pinned  to  a  card  bearing  the  dates 
of  the  child's  birth  and  death  —  a  few  blades  of  grass 
gathered  from  the  little  grave  —  and  some  papers. 
The  first  Eleanor  opened  was  a  certificate  of  marriage. 
She  looked  at  the  signatures,  remembering  the  words 
Constance  had  spoken  at  their  last  meeting :  "  After- 
wards you  shall  know  everything."  "  Constance  For- 
tescue  and  Charles  Vane."  So  that  was  the  name  of 
the  man  who  played  the  traitor  to  an  innocent,  trust- 
ing girl !  Who  was  he  ?  —  Where  was  he  now  ?  Still 
waiting  for  the  grinding  of  those  everlasting  mills, 
which  must  surely,  in  this  case,  grind  exceeding  small  ? 
Eleanor  wondered. 

The  next  was  a  few  lines  in  a  man's  writing; 
merely  an  intimation  of  the  hour  at  which  he  might 
be  expected,  signed  "  C."  She  glanced  at  them 


ELEANOR  INTERVENES  281 

without  attention ;  she  was  thinking  of  Constance's 
love  for  this  man  who  had  so  utterly  betrayed  her. 
God  grant  she  might  never  meet  Charles  Vane ! 

Then  —  a  page  torn  from  an  illustrated  paper. 
She  unfolded  it.  Two  portraits  side  by  side,  joined 
by  a  meaningless  ribbon  looped  in  many  bows,  and 
underneath,  a  few  lines  of  printed  matter.  Eleanor 
gazed  at  it ;  first  in  abstraction,  then  in  wondering 
incredulity,  at  last  in  horrified  certainty  —  as  the 
truth  dawned  upon  her.  A  wave  of  burning  heat 
seemed  to  rise  and  envelop  her,  then  slowly  ebbed 
again,  leaving  her  cold  as  a  stone. 

For  a  long  time  she  sat,  frozen,  immovable ;  but 
at  last  a  shudder  passed  over  her,  and  recalled  her  to 
herself.  With  shaking  hands  she  folded  the  papers 
into  a  neat  packet  as  before.  She  dropped  it  into 
her  bag,  and  turned  the  key.  Then  slowly,  thinking 
deeply  all  the  while,  she  undressed  and  went  to  bed. 

The  morning  came,  wet  and  stormy;  the  air  was 
heavy  and  full  of  menace.  Sleep  had  only  come  to 
Eleanor's  aching  eyes  at  the  hour  at  which  it  was 
her  usual  habit  to  rise,  and  it  was  nearly  ten  o'clock 
before  she  awoke,  to  find  a  maid  standing  by  her 
side  with  a  tray  in  her  hands,  who  informed  her  that 
Mrs.  Trevor  and  Mrs.  Ross  were  breakfasting  in  their 
rooms.  Mrs.  Trevor  had  a  headache;  and  would  her 
ladyship  please  excuse  her? 

It  was  nearly  noon  before  Eleanor  descended  to 


282  TREVOR   LORDSHIP 

the  drawing-room.  She  walked  to  the  window  and 
flung  it  open,  feeling  suffocated  in  the  close,  heavy 
atmosphere.  At  intervals  she  heard  shouting  in  the 
street  below,  saw  some  boys  with  newspapers  under 
their  arms  running  past,  and  one  or  two  people 
stopping  to  purchase  from  them,  but  she  paid  no 
attention.  She  stood,  schooling  herself  to  quiet, 
trying  to  control  the  nervous  movements  of  her 
hands.  She  did  not  notice  a  cab  draw  up,  and  a 
man  alight  from  it,  and  started  when  the  door  opened 
and  Mr.  Vane-Talbert  was  announced.  He  did  not  see 
her  for  a  moment  as  she  stood  in  the  window  recess; 
then  she  moved  slowly  forward. 

"Ah!  Lady  Trevor!"  he  said  airily.  "How  do 
you  do !  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you.  You've  heard 
the  great  news,  I  suppose  ?  " 

He  held  out  his  hand.  Eleanor  apparently  did  not 
see  it. 

"  You  have  come  to  see  Mrs.  Ross,"  she  said 
quietly  and  clearly.  "  She  does  not  wish  to  see  you, 
and  has  deputed  me  to  do  so." 

"  I  hope  she  isn't  ill  ? "  queried  Vane-Talbert, 
solicitously. 

Eleanor  did  not  reply.  He  began  to  think  there 
was  something  unusual  in  her  manner.  For  a  second 
he  wondered  how  much  she  knew.  But  no  !  Minnie 
wouldn't  be  quite  such  a  fool  as  to  tell  her  anything. 

"  When  did  you  come  to  London  ?  "  he  continued. 


ELEANOR  INTERVENES  283 

"  Is  Sir  Henry  with  you  ?  He  will  be  very  much 
interested  in  the  turn  events  have  taken." 

The  sound  of  her  husband's  name  seemed  to  give 
Eleanor  courage.  She  drew  herself  up  with  an  almost 
imperceptible  gesture  of  determination,  and  spoke 
again :  — 

"  Mrs.  Ross  has  commissioned  me  to  ask  you  for 
the  letter  which  she  wrote  to  you.  Will  you  please 
give  it  to  me  ?" 

She  held  out  her  hand  as  she  spoke. 

"  Letter  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  a  puzzled  smile,  which 
was  really  very  well  done.  "  I  have  no  letter !  I 
wrote  to  her  to  say  I  was  coming.  Did  she  write  to 
me  ?  I  never  got  it !  " 

Eleanor  did  not  withdraw  her  hand. 

"  Will  you  please  give  it  to  me  at  once." 

Vane-Talbert  hesitated.  There  was  something  relent- 
less in  her  calm,  even  voice,  which  convinced  him, 
even  against  his  will,  that  Minnie  had  'been  fool 
enough,'  as  he  put  it.  He  assumed  an  air  of  engaging 
candour. 

"  To  be  quite  frank,  I  hardly  know  what  to  do  !  I 
will  confess  I  do  know  what  letter  you  allude  to  ! 
but  Minnie  has  so  bound  me  to  secrecy,  I  can't  give 
her  away,  can  I?" 

"Mrs.  Ross  has  asked  you  for  the  letter  repeatedly," 
said  Eleanor,  coldly.  "  You  have  refused  to  give  it 
to  her.  Please  give  it  to  me  at  once!  " 


284  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  Oh,  no  !  my  dear  Lady  Trevor,  you  are  wrong ! " 
he  said  earnestly.  "  The  matter  has  been  a  little 
joke  between  Minnie  and  myself.  Surely  she  could 
never  have  taken  it  seriously  !  Of  course  I  will  give 
you  the  letter.  Here  it  is.  I  could  not  bear  you  to 
have  such  a  poor  opinion  of  me  as  to  imagine  for  a 
moment  that  it  was  anything  but  a  little  jest  between 
friends.  I  should  be  far  too  severely  punished  if  such 
were  the  case  !  " 

Eleanor  took  the  letter  between  the  tips  of  her 
fingers,  glanced  at  it  to  see  that  it  was  the  right  one, 
and  then  laid  it  on  the  table. 

She  was  greatly  relieved,  but  there  was  still  some- 
thing to  be  done.  If  only  her  knees  did  not  shake 
so !  Her  hands  were  clenched  at  her  side  in  a  grip 
that  drove  the  nails  into  the  white  skin ;  her  heart 
was  pounding  so  loudly  that  she  wondered  how  it 
was  he  didn't  notice  it ;  there  was  a  lump  in  her 
throat  which  prevented  her  speaking. 

"  You  do  forgive  me  for  my  idle  jest,  don't  you  ?  " 
said  Vane-Talbert,  in  a  playfully  pleading  manner. 

Eleanor's  blood  suddenly  boiled. 

"  Mr.  Vane-Talbert,  you  will  go  out  of  this  room 
and  out  of  this  house,  and  you  will  never  enter  it 
again.  You  will  never  again  speak  to  any  member 
of  my  family,  or  frequent  any  house  where  they  are 
in  the  habit  of  going." 

Vane-Talbert  looked  aghast.     "  Deuced  handsome 


ELEAXOK  INTEBVENES  285 

woman,"  he  thought ;  "  but  what  the  devil  does  she 
mean  by  dictating  to  me  like  this  ? " 

"  Come,  come,  Lady  Trevor,  if  this  is  part  of  the 
joke,  you  are  carrying  it  a  bit  too  far,  don't  you 
think  ?  And  you  can't  be  in  earnest.  What  earthly 
reason  have  you  got  for  such  a  preposterous  sugges- 
tion? If  I  have  thoughtlessly  offended  Mrs.  Ross, 
I  apologize.  I  can't  do  more  !  " 

Eleanor  met  his  look  unflinchingly. 

"  You  will  understand  my  reason  for  speaking, 
when  I  tell  you  that  Constance  Fortescue  was  my 
dear  friend,"  she  said  slowly  and  distinctly. 

"  I  don't  understand  you ! "  he  stammered ;  but 
his  words  were  belied  by  the  ugly  purple  flush  which 
crept  over  his  face  to  the  roots  of  his  sleek,  black 
hair. 

"  Do  not  lie." 

Eleanor  hardly  raised  her  voice,  but  the  words  cut 
like  a  whip. 

Slowly  Vane-Talbert  turned,  and  walked  a  few 
steps  towards  the  door.  Then  he  paused,  hesitated, 
and  finally  turned  towards  Eleanor  again.  She  was 
standing  perfectly  still,  with  an  inexorable  expression 
in  her  eyes  which  his  own  did  not  care  to  meet.  He 
hung  his  head  for  a  second. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  husky  whisper. 

"  I  decline  to  give  you  any  information." 

Without  another  word,  Vane-Talbert  left  the  room. 


286  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Eleanor  tottered  to  a  chair,  and  almost  fell  into 
it,  spent  and  nerveless,  shaking  all  over  as  with  an 
ague.  So  Minnie  found  her,  a  few  minutes  later. 

"  Eleanor  !  "  she  cried. 

Then  she  ran  from  the  room,  to  return  with  a 
glass  of  wine  which  she  administered ;  and  then, 
kneeling  beside  her,  she  held  her  hand  in  silence. 

Presently  Eleanor  recovered  somewhat.  She 
pressed  Minnie's  hand  slightly,  and  her  eyes  trav- 
elled to  the  letter,  which  was  still  lying  on  the  table. 
Still  without  speaking,  Minnie  rose,  and  taking  up 
the  letter,  carried  it  to  the  fireplace,  and  dropped  it 
into  the  heart  of  the  flames.  Then  she  returned  to 
her  former  position,  and  kissed  Eleanor  tenderly. 

"  Listen ! "  she  said.  "  I  have  heard  from  Hugh 
this  morning.  The  doctors  say  he  must  break  the 
journey  in  Egypt.  I  shall  go  to  him  at  once.  I 
can't  thank  you  — " 

And  somehow,  Minnie's  silence  satisfied  Eleanor 
much  more  than  any  protestations  could  have  satis- 
fied her.  Words  came  so  easily  to  Minnie,  as  a  rule. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HOME  AGAIN 

"  War !     War  !    War ! 
Heaven  aid  the  right, 

God  move  the  hero's  arm  in  the  fearful  fight  I 
God  send  the  women  sleep  in  the  long,  long  night, 
When  the  breasts  on  whose  strength  they  leaned 
shall  heave  no  more." 

—  E.  C.  STEDMAN. 

As  Eleanor  drove  to  the  station  later  on  in  the  day, 
she  realized  what  had  been  the  news  that  Vane-Tal- 
bert  had  mentioned,  and  that  the  boys  had  been  shout- 
ing in  the  streets.  It  was  placarded  on  the  hoardings. 
It  was  printed  in  large  type  at  the  railway  station. 
It  was  WAR  !  Sir  Henry  had  been  right  in  his  fore- 
bodings ;  it  had  come. 

She  bought  all  the  latest  editions  of  the  afternoon 
papers  for  her  husband,  but,  somehow,  it  didn't  seem 
to  interest  her.  Her  mind  failed  to  grasp  the  true 
significance  of  it. 

She  leaned  back  in  the  railway  carriage,  utterly 
exhausted  by  the  events  of  the  last  two  days.  The 
strain  on  her  nerves  and  on  her  emotions  had  been 
great.  To  a  gentle  character  there  is  nothing  so  ex- 
hausting as  anger,  and  she  had  been  roused  to  the 
fiercest,  keenest  anger. 

287 


288  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

She  had  liked  Vane-Talbert ;  he  had  stayed  more 
than  once  at  '  Trevor  Lordship/  and  had  always  been 
pleasant  and  courteous.  She  had  met  him  first  at 
a  time  when  her  interest  in  her  fellow-creatures  had 
been  newly  awakened,  at  a  time  when  she  had  been 
ready  to  like  every  one,  to  see  the  best  in  every  one. 
He  had  represented  a  new  type,  modern,  sociable,  and 
tactful.  So  far  as  she  had  judged,  he  was  a  man  who, 
while  perhaps  not  doing  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the 
world,  would  certainly  never  do  any  harm. 

She  had  read  in  books  of  girls  betrayed  and  ruined, 
and  when  she  had  heard  Constance's  pitiful  story  she 
had  quite  unconsciously  accepted  it,  as  if  it  had  been 
in  a  book.  That  is  to  say,  it  had  never  dawned  upon 
her  that  any  gentleman  she  had  ever  met,  or  would 
be  ever  likely  to  meet,  any  gentleman  of  birth  and 
breeding,  who  was  received  as  a  guest  in  her  house, 
could  ever  stoop  to  such  a  thing.  She  would  as  soon 
have  suspected  Sir  Henry,  or  Roger  Bolding  —  the  two 
men  she  knew  best  —  of  deliberate  murder !  She  had 
met  with  one  or  two  distressing  cases  in  her  parish 
work,  but,  there  again,  that  was  among  a  different 
class,  presumably  less  refined  and  less  intelligent. 
Crime  was  committed,  of  course,  but  by  people  one  did 
not  know,  not  by  people  whom  one  knew,  and  liked, 
and  received.  There  were  monsters  of  iniquity,  she 
supposed,  in  every  grade  of  society,  just  as  there 
were  maniacs ;  but  where  exactly  they  pursued  their 


HOME  AGAIN  289 

evil  courses,  she  was  ignorant ;  only,  it  was  not  where 
she  and  her  friends  lived  and  moved  and  had  their 
being !  Some  people  enjoyed  vulgar  and  sordid  in- 
trigues and  questionable  dealings  with  their  fellow- 
creatures  ;  at  least,  so  she  had  heard,  but  she  had 
been  thankful  she  had  never  met  them. 

This  comfortable  but  fallacious  theory  had  been 
rudely  overthrown.  She  had  received  a  severe  shock. 
In  consequence,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  touched  vermin, 
as  if  she  had  trodden  in  some  unspeakable  filth, 
and  had  been  herself  soiled  by  the  contact.  This 
feeling  was  partly  due  to  her  present  bodily  weak- 
ness ;  the  normal  balance  of  her  mind  had  been  dis- 
turbed by  her  sudden  collision  with  the  seamy  side  of 
life. 

"Was  it  only  coming  events  that  threw  shadows? 
Did  the  hideous  past  throw  no  shadow  ?  It  was  in- 
credible to  her  that  a  man  could  appear  so  entirely 
free  from  care,  with  an  ugly  story  like  this  in  his  life. 
Surely  it  must  have  dogged  his  every  footstep.  And 
he  had  shown  no  sign  of  it !  His  manner  had  been 
so  particularly  candid  and  courteous.  Had  the  Psalm- 
ist spoken  only  the  truth  when  he  made  his  hasty  and 
comprehensive  statement,  "All  men  are  liars  ! "  Had 
most  people  some  dingy  corner  where  lurked  their  own 
private  skeleton?  Her  faith  in  the  whole  race  of 
mankind  was  overthrown ;  perhaps  even  Roger  Bold- 
ing  was  not  all  that  she  had  imagined !  Had  he  trifled 


290  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

with  some  girl's  affections,  or  made  love  to  his  neigh- 
bour's wife  ? 

Then,  realizing  to  what  an  awful  pitch  of  suspicion 
her  morbid  reflections  had  brought  her,  she  pulled 
herself  up  with  a  jerk.  Such  thoughts  were  unwhole- 
some and  evil ;  she  would  have  no  more  to  do  with 
them.  She  would  dismiss  them  from  her  mind.  She 
had  a  physical  longing  for  a  bath,  as  if  the  material 
washing  would  help  to  cleanse  the  moral  dirt  which  had 
defiled  her.  With  the  thought  of  her  familiar  room 
came  the  thought  of  her  husband ;  she  would  soon  be 
with  him  again,  and,  who  could  tell !  perhaps  they 
might  meet  a  step  further  on  that  road  she  so  yearned 
to  tread  with  him.  She  gave  herself  up  to  the  delight- 
ful vista  into  which  that  road  would  lead  them,  and 
presently  relapsed  into  a  refreshing  and  dreamless 
sleep,  which  lasted  until  she  reached  Larnham. 

Sir  Henry  and  Roger  Bolding  came  out  of  the  hall 
door  as  the  carriage  drew  up. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last !  "  said  Sir  Henry.  "  I  hope 
you  are  not  too  tired  ?  It  is  delightful  to  have  you 
back  again." 

"  I  assure  you,  Lady  Trevor,"  said  Bolding,  "  it 
has  been  a  piteous  spectacle !  I  came  over  this 
morning,  not  knowing  you  were  away,  and  found 
your  husband  disconsolately  wandering  about,  as  if 
he  were  looking  for  something  he  could  not  find.  I 
joined  him,  and  all  day  long  we  have  been  disconso- 
late together." 


HOME  AGAIN  291 

Sir  Henry  nodded. 

"  I  assure  you  it  is  true,"  he  said.  "  Please  don't 
smile." 

Eleanor  laughed. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  happier  now  ! "  Then  she 
remembered,  and  added  seriously,  "  But  I  have  bad 
news  for  you  both." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  both  men  together. 

"  War  is  declared." 

"  Never !  "  said  Bolding,  incredulously. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Sir  Henry,  gravely. 

"  I  have  brought  you  all  the  papers,"  she  continued. 
"  They  were  in  the  carriage." 

Bolding  went  in  search  of  them,  and  Sir  Henry 
turned  to  his  wife. 

"  Did  you  get  through  your  business  all  right  ?  I 
have  been  thinking  so  much  about  you." 

"  Yes !  "  she  replied,  with  a  little  shiver  of  recollec- 
tion. 

"  Satisfactorily  ?  " 

Eleanor  hesitated. 

"  'Absolutely  '  is  perhaps  a  better  word.  It  is  all 
over  now." 

Then  Bolding  returned,  and  both  men  plunged  into 
the  absorbing  topic. 

"  Volunteers  are  coming  in  fast.  They  are  being 
enrolled  at  the  Cape  already?  I  see,"  said  Bolding,  a 
little  later. 


292  TEEVOE  LOKDSHIP 

"  We  shall  want  every  man  we  can  get,"  said  Sir 
Henry.  "  The  Boers  have  the  advantage  of  fighting 
in  a  country  they  know,  every  inch  of  it.  We 
shall  not  be  able  to  outmanoeuvre  them.  If  we  beat 
them,  it  will  be  by  sheer  force  of  numbers." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Bolding,  slowly. 

"  I  am  certain  of  it,"  replied  Sir  Henry,  with 
conviction. 

Bolding  sat  in  silence  for  a  time. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  I  shall  go,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  You !  "  cried  Eleanor,  in  surprise.  "  They  will 
never  send  the  Yeomanry  out!  " 

"  I  shan't  wait  for  that,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  go, 
on  my  own  —  at  once." 

"  Will  you  be  able  to  get  out  there,  do  you  think  ?  " 
asked  Sir  Henry. 

"  Yes,  if  I  go  at  once,  before  there  is  any  rush. 
If  what  you  say  is  true,  and  it  is  going  to  be  a  big 
job,  there's  sure  to  be  a  rush  presently.  I'll  get  there 
first.  If  it  proves  only  a  flash  in  the  pan,  I  can  come 
back  again.  If  not,  why!  I  may  give  a  knock  for 
the  old  country." 

Eleanor  was  speechless.  For  the  first  time,  War, 
and  what  it  means,  was  assuming  its  real  importance. 
The  call  to  arms  had  come.  Men  would  go,  like 
Bolding,  without  hesitation,  without  fuss;  leaving 
home,  kindred,  friends,  hardly  even  aware  that  they 
were  answering  the  voice  of  duty;  proving  that 


HOME  AGAIN  293 

patriotism,  although  dormant  during  the  stagnant 
years  of  peace,  woke  in  an  instant  throughout  the 
whole  land  at  the  nation's  need. 

Sir  Henry  held  out  his  hand. 

"  God  bless  you,  old  fellow !     You  are  right." 

Bolding  looked  at  Eleanor  with  keen  scrutiny.  In 
her  eyes  he  read  a  frank,  friendly  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  he  said,  with  a  slight  touch  of  bitter- 
ness, "  I'm  just  the  chap  to  go  !  No  wife,  no  ties  !  " 
Then  he  pulled  himself  together,  and  added,  lightly, 
"  Quite  unattached,  in  fact.  No  encumbrances !  " 

At  this  moment  the  dressing-bell  rang,  and  Joan 
came  running  in. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Eleanor !  I'm  so  pleased  to  see  you ! 
I'm  so  pleased  you've  come  home !  " 

"  Mr.  Bolding,  you'll  stay  to  dinner,  won't  you  ?  " 
asked  Eleanor.  "  Do  stay." 

"  If  you  will  forgive  iny  costume,  I  shall  be  de- 
lighted." 

"  It's  pouring  with  rain  now,"  said  Sir  Henry. 
"If  it  doesn't  clear,  you  had  better  stay  the 
night." 

"  Aunt  Eleanor !  "  said  Joan,  "  Dobbs  says  there's 
war  with  old  Kruger.  What  does  it  mean  ?  Does 
it  .mean  we  shall  have  to  make  barricades,  and  live  in 
the  cellar?" 

Mademoiselle's  instruction  in  French  history  had 
evidently  made  a  strong  impression ! 


294  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  Oh,  no ;  the  war  is  in  South  Africa,  thousands  of 
miles  away." 

Joan's  face  fell. 

"Won't  there  be  nothing  exciting?  Won't  the 
women  have  to  load  the  muskets,  and  fetch  the  water  ? 
Nor  nothing?" 

Sir  Henry  answered  her. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly.  "  They  will  have  to  give 
their  husbands,  and  their  fathers,  and  their  sons,  and 
their  lovers,  and  stay  at  home  and  look  as  if  they  liked 
it !  Which  will  be,  my  dear  Joan,  by  far  the  hardest 
part  of  all." 

It  was  not  until  some  hours  later,  when  he  and 
Sir  Henry  joined  Eleanor  in  the  drawing-room,  that 
Bolding  remembered  the  errand  which  had  ostensibly 
brought  him  to  'Trevor  Lordship'  that  day. 

"  Have  you  heard  about  poor  Bessie  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  !  "  said  Eleanor,  quickly.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry.  I  ought  to  have  told  you  before,  but 
the  war  news  drove  it  out  of  my  mind,  for  the  time. 
Her  husband  has  been  caught  at  last.  He  nearly 
killed  Broughton's  under-keeper,  and  —  Bessie  is 
dead." 

"  Dead  !  "  echoed  Eleanor. 

"  She  died  of  the  shock  of  hearing  of  his  arrest." 

" Poor,  poor  Bessie !     And  the  children?" 

"  Old  Lavender  brought  them  home  last  night. 
Bessie  was  buried  yesterday." 


HOME  AGAIN  295 

"  I  heard  nothing  of  it,"  said  Eleanor  in  surprise. 

"You  would  not  be  very  likely  to.  They  were 
right  away  at  the  camp  at  Bunton  Heath." 

"  I  knew  that  Lavender  went  back  to  her  daughter 
again  about  a  fortnight  ago,  but  although  I  saw  her 
before  she  went,  she  did  not  tell  me  Bessie  was  worse. 
She  had  never  really  recovered.  Two  little  chil- 
dren, what  a  burden  for  Lavender's  old  age !  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  she'll  consider  them  a  burden," 
said  Bolding,  gently.  "  They'll  be  a  comfort  to  her." 

"  We  must  see  what  can  be  done  about  the  cottage, 
Eleanor,"  said  Sir  Henry.  "  I  heard  not  long  ago  it 
was  for  sale.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  buy  it,  and 
let  her  off  the  rent.  That  would  be  a  little  help." 

"  I  doubt  if  she'd  do  it,"  said  Bolding.  "  She's  a 
good  woman,  with  a  sturdy,  independent  spirit  which 
you  don't  see  too  much  of  nowadays." 

"  I'll  see  her  to-morrow,"  said  Eleanor.  "  Thank 
you  very  much  for  the  suggestion,  Henry.  It  is  very 
good  of  you." 

Then  the  conversation  turned  again  to  the  war,  and 
Bolding' s  departure. 

"  I  can't  believe  you  are  really  going,"  said  Eleanor. 
"  It  is  horrible.  We  shall  miss  you  dreadfully." 

"  Shall  you  take  any  horses  ?  "  asked  Sir  Henry. 

"  I'm  not  sure.  I've  two  which  might  be  useful, 
if  I  can  get  them  out.  I  can't  really  tell  until  I  get 
to  London,  and  see  how  things  are." 


296  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  You'll  come  back  again  before  you  really  start  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  don't  think  I  shall.  Oh  ! 
I'll  come  over  again  before  I  go  to  London ;  I  don't 
mean  that.  But  once  I  get  there,  I  shall  stand  by 
for  the  first  passage  that  comes  along,  or  I  may 
miss  it." 

"  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  your  going." 

"  Can't  you  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  little  smile. 

Sir  Henry  was  looking  at  his  wife. 

"  Eleanor,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  you  look  dreadfully 
tired.  All  this  talk  has  been  too  much  for  you.  I 
will  take  Bolding  into  the  library." 

Eleanor  rose. 

"I  think  I  will  go  to  bed,"  she  said.  "I  have 
had  rather  a  long  day." 

"I  must  be  getting  home  too,"  said  Bolding. 
"  May  I  order  my  horse  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  stay  the  night,"  said  Eleanor. 
"  Just  listen  to  the  wind  and  the  rain,"  as  a  gust 
shook  the  windows  violently. 

"  It  won't  hurt  me  !  I  feel  rather  in  the  mood  for 
a  tussle  with  the  elements  to-night." 

"  Good-night,"  she  said,  as  she  held  out  her 
hand.  "  You'll  come  over  and  say  good-bye,  won't 

you?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  I  will  come  to  say  —  good- 
bye-" 


HOME   AGAIN  297 

Sir  Henry  walked  with  his  wife  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs. 

"  You  are  not  ill,  are  you  ? "  he  asked  anxiously. 
"You  look  fearfully  white."  He  took  hold  of  her 
arm  gently  as  he  spoke. 

"  Oh,  no !  I  am  not  ill ! "  she  answered  quickly. 
"  Only  tired." 

"I  hope  you  will  be  better  in  the  morning.  If 
not,  I  shall  send  for  the  doctor !  " 

"  That  won't  be  necessary,  I  assure  you,"  she  said, 
smiling.  "  Good-night !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LAVENDER'S  BABIES 

"  Here  the  heart 

May  give  a  useful  lesson  to  the  head, 
And  learning  wiser  grow  without  his  books." 


"An!  m'  lady,"  said  Lavender.  "What  a  rain,  to 
be  sure  !  Tis  no  fit  weather  for  you  to  be  out." 

The  old  woman  closed  the  door  with  difficulty 
against  a  gust  of  wind,  as  Eleanor  stepped  into  the 
little  shop. 

"  I  waited  until  this  afternoon  in  the  hope  that  it 
would  clear,  but  there  seems  no  sign  of  improvement. 
I  wanted  so  much  to  see  you.  I  have  been  so  sorely 
grieved  to  hear  of  your  sorrow.  I  was  away  yester- 
day, or  I  should  have  come  sooner." 

"  I  heard  you  was  away,  m'  lady.  Aye  !  it  has 
been  a  sad  time  !  I  had  no  means  of  sending  you 
word  from  the  Camp,  or  I  would  have  done  so.  You 
were  always  so  kind  in  wishing  to  hear  of  my  girl." 

"Poor  Bessie!"  said  Eleanor,  softly.  Then,  laying 
her  hand  on  the  old  woman's  shoulder,  she  added 
kindly,  "You  must  not  grieve  for  her." 

"  No,  m'  lady,  I  do  not  grieve  for  her.     I  have  it  in 

208 


LAVENDER'S  BABIES  299 

my  heart  to  thank  God  that  she's  spared  more  sor- 
row. He  was  no  good,  her  man  —  she  never  would 
see  it,  but  it's  the  truth.  There  could  never  have 
been  any  happiness  for  her,  and  she  always  took 
things  bard.  So  it's  best  as  it  is."  Lavender  wiped 
the  tears  from  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 
"  Ah,  well !  "  she  added,  "  there's  more  to  do  in  this 
world  than  fret." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Eleanor.  "You  will  have  so  much 
to  do  now.  May  I  see  the  babies  ?  " 

"  Come  into  the  back  room,  and  welcome,  m'  lady. 
The  little  one,  she's  asleep,  but  Willie,  he's  playing 
with  his  toys.  You'll  excuse  a  muddle,  I  know." 

"  I  don't  see  any  muddle  to  excuse !  "  said  Eleanor, 
smiling,  as  she  entered  the  cosy  room. 

In  the  centre  of  the  floor  a  small  boy  of  three  or 
four  years  old  was  sitting,  playing  with  a  battered 
wooden  horse  and  some  empty  reels.  A  sofa  was 
drawn  up  near  the  fire,  and  on  it,  in  a  warm  nest  of 
shawls,  lay  the  sleeping  infant.  Old  Lavender  drew 
aside  the  coverings  with  a  gentle  hand. 

"  Isn't  she  a  beauty  ?  "  she  said  proudly.  "  I  had 
a  bit  of  trouble  with  her  at  first.  She  wouldn't  take 
to  the  bottle.  But  to-day  she's  doing  fine." 

Eleanor  bent  over  and  looked  at  the  babe.  She 
put  her  finger  into  the  little  hand  lying  curved  like 
an  exquisite  shell,  and  immediately  the  tiny  fingers 
tightened  over  it  with  the  clinging  confidence  of  in- 


300  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

fancy.  Somewhere  in  Eleanor's  heart  a  chord,  hith- 
erto untouched,  tightened  in  instant  response. 

"  Tis  time  for  her  bath,"  said  Lavender.  "  Will 
you  mind,  m'  lady,  if  I  get  the  things  ready  ?  " 

With  a  gesture  of  assent,  Eleanor  drew  up  a  low 
chair,  and  sat  down  beside  the  couch.  Not  for  the 
world  would  she  have  withdrawn  from  that  little 
tender  clasp.  Old  Lavender  bustled  about,  clearing 
away  the  tea  things  which  lay  on  the  table,  setting 
the  kettle  to  boil,  and  hanging  little  garments  to 
warm  in  front  of  the  fire.  And  all  the  while  she 
kept  up  a  little  ripple  of  conversation. 

"  That  do  seem  terrible  news  about  the  war !  Ah  ! 
that'll  bring  sorrow  to  many  a  poor  soul.  Mrs.  Giles, 
she's  wonderful  put  about.  She's  got  two  boys  sol- 
diers. And  Mrs.  Kogers,  she's  got  one,  and  my  sis- 
ter's got  a  grandson  —  he's  in  Africa  now." 

"It  will  be  a  terribly  anxious  time  for  them," 
agreed  Eleanor. 

"  Aye,  so  it  will !  'Tis  but  human  nature.  It 
didn't  ought  to  be,  but  so  it  is." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well,  m'  lady,  'tis  this  way.  Seems  to  me  we're 
here  for  a  time,  and  at  the  end  of  our  time  we  go, 
be  it  soon  or  late." 

"But  this  war  must  mean  many  lives  cut  short. 
It  seems  so  dreadful." 

"  Ah,  but  that  ain't  so,  really.     'Tisn't  a  matter  of 


LAVENDER'S   BABIES  301 

a  life,  'tis  a  matter  of  a  job.  When  our  job's  done, 
we  go.  But  no  one  goes,  not  before." 

Eleanor  smiled  at  the  simple  statement. 

"  Well,  then,  this  will  mean  the  end  of  many  poor 
men's  '  jobs.' ' 

"Then  they'll  get  their  penny,"  said  Lavender, 
sturdily.  "  Whether  they've  worked  for  an  hour,  or 
whether  they've  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the 
day.  They've  done  their  job,  that's  all.  Who  knows 
but  that  God's  got  another  for  them  in  another  place  ? 
I  like  to  think  that  maybe  He's  set  my  girl  to  mind 
the  babies !  She  was  wonderful  fond  of  little  ones, 
was  my  Bessie." 

"  Think  of  the  poor  sad  hearts  left  behind,"  Eleanor 
urged  gently. 

"  Ah !  there  you're  right,  m'  lady.  Sad  hearts 
there  will  be.  But  look  at  it  which  way  you  will, 
sorrow  is  always  for  the  poor  ones  left  behind.  'Tis 
mostly  a  selfish  feeling,  when  you  get  to  the  bottom 
of  it.  I'm  sad  because  I'm  a  selfish  old  woman.  I'd 
fain  have  kept  my  maid.  My  old  eyes  are  sore 
for  the  sight  of  her.  But  if  I  wasn't  selfish,  I'd 
praise  God  who  took  her  out  of  it  all.  And  I  do," 
she  added  stoutly.  "  I  thank  God  for  His  mercies. 
Now,  if  'tis  His  will  to  spare  me  till  the  babies  are 
ready  to  do  for  themselves,  that's  all  I  ask.  If  He 
doesn't,  well,  'twill  be  all  for  the  best,  I've  no  doubt 
of  that.  'Tis  wonderful  the  blessings  He  sends ! " 


302  TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

"  You  are  always  so  thankful,"  said  Eleanor,  hesi- 
tatingly. "  And  yet  you  have  had  so  many  troubles 
in  your  life  ! " 

"  Aye  !  I've  had  troubles,  for  sure,"  was  the  answer. 
"  But  praise  God  I  must,  and  will,  m'  lady ;  I've  not 
done  praising  yet  along  of  my  redemption  !  'Tis  a 
matter  some  folks  seem  to  forget  —  but  not  I !  That's 
a  great  matter  for  sure !  Now,  Willie  boy !  "  she 
added,  cheerfully,  "  out  of  the  road !  Where's  that 
old  gee-gee  ?  Bless  me  if  that  head  ain't  off  again, 
and  only  stuck  on  this  morning." 

"  Poor  gee-gee,  no  head,"  lisped  the  boy.  "  Willie 
cry !  " 

"Not  much  use  crying!  That  won't  mend  it. 
Grannie'll  stick  it  on  again  to-morrow.  Where's  the 
box  ?  Put  'em  all  to  bye-bye ! " 

The  little  fellow  obediently  gathered  all  his  play- 
things, and  carried  them  to  his  grandmother,  who  laid 
them  away  in  an  old  soap  box.  Then  she  went  to  the 
larder,  and  returned  with  a  large  slice  of  bread  and  but- 
ter, and  a  cup  of  milk,  which  she  placed  on  the  table. 

"  Here's  your  supper,  Willie  boy,"  she  said,  lifting 
him  into  a  chair.  "  Say  your  grace  like  a  man." 

Willie  folded  his  hands,  and  murmured  a  few  un- 
intelligible words.  His  pious  intention,  however, 
appeared  to  satisfy  the  old  woman,  who  allowed  him 
to  attack  his  simple  meal,  which  he  did  with  evident 
relish. 


LAVENDEK'S   BABIES  303 

"  Baby  is  waking,  I  think,"  said  Eleanor.  "  She 
has  opened  her  eyes." 

Old  Lavender  caine  and  lifted  the  child  from  the 
sofa. 

"  Eh !  my  beauty,"  she  said  fondly.  "  Show  the 
lady  your  pretty  eyes." 

"  May  I  stay  while  you  put  her  to  bed  ?  "  Eleanor 
asked  eagerly. 

"  And  welcome,  m'  lady !  I'm  proud  for  you  to  see 
her!  " 

With  tender  dexterity,  Lavender  laid  the  child  on 
her  knee,  undressed  it,  bathed  it,  and  caressed  it  with 
the  foolish  nursery  endearments  which  have  survived 
the  wisdom  of  the  ages,  which  originated  probably 
with  Eve  herself,  and  have  lasted  until  now.  Surely 
Eve  must  have  played  '  This  little  pig '  with  the  pink 
toes  of  her  offspring,  or,  at  all  events,  the  antediluvian 
equivalent  for  that  historic  game.  Because  poor,  ill- 
fated  Cain  was  doomed  to  sin  and  sorrow,  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  he  was  not  a  most  attractive 
baby !  How  many  mothers'  hearts  since  then,  alas ! 
have  ached  with  the  same  bitter  grief  for  their  first- 
born ? 

At  last  the  baby,  washed,  fed,  and  contented,  was 
placed  in  Eleanor's  willing  arms.  Maybe  old  Laven- 
der's shrewd  eyes  noted  the  loving  interest  with 
whi  h  she  had  watched  the  simple  ceremony,  and 
divined  something  of  the  strange  emotion  which  was 


304  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

playing  a  new  and  sweet  music  on  Eleanor's  heart- 
strings. 

"  Sit  you  there,  by  the  fire,  m'  lady,  and  nurse  her, 
while  I  run  up  and  tuck  Willie  boy  upstairs.  Never 
you  be  afraid,  m'  lady,  she's  a  wonderful  good  child. 
She  never  cries.  Say  good-night  to  the  lady,  Willie, 
my  lad!" 

Little  Willie  obediently  approached  Eleanor,  to 
proffer  a  rather  sticky  hand.  He  skirted  carefully 
round  the  bath,  and  the  other  paraphernalia  of  the 
baby's  toilet,  but  his  walking  powers  were  none  of 
the  steadiest,  and  in  spite  of  Lavender's  warning  cry, 
"  Eh !  mind  the  fire ! "  he  gave  a  lurch  forward. 
Eleanor  caught  him  as  he  fell,  and  exactly  how  it 
happened  she  could  not  tell  —  but  a  stream  of  boiling 
water  from  the  half  overturned  kettle  on  the  hob 
poured  over  her  arm.  In  the  moment  of  intense 
anxiety  she  hardly  noticed  it ;  the  boy  gave  a  scream 
of  terror,  which  was  smothered  on  Lavender's  breast. 

"  He  isn't  hurt,  is  he  ?  "  asked  Eleanor,  quickly. 
"I  think  it  must  have  caught  in  my  sleeve." 

"  There  !  there !  my  fellow,  that's  all  right ! 
There's  nought  to  cry  for,"  said  the  old  woman, 
soothingly.  "  But  you,  m'  lady,  did  it  scald  you  ?  " 

"  No,  not  a  bit ;  and  it  didn't  touch  baby.  See,  it 
has  not  even  damped  her  skirt!  " 

"  That's  a  blessing  !  "  said  Lavender,  heartily.  "  I 
was  af eared  for  you  both  for  the  moment." 


LAVENDER'S   BABIES  305 

Left  alone  with  her  drowsy  burden,  Eleanor  sat  on, 
gazing  with  entranced  eyes  at  the  little  rosy  face. 
She  drew  the  babe  closer  to  her  bosom,  and  as  she 
laid  her  cheek  upon  the  downy  head,  her  whole  heart 
went  out  to  it  in  yearning  love.  Constance's  words 
returned  to  her  mind.  (  To  carry  love  under  your 
heart,  and  in  your  arms ! '  Ah  !  if  God  in  His  infi- 
nite compassion  would  some  day  give  her  such  a 
treasure  to  have  and  to  hold !  Her  child  —  and 
Henry's.  Her  face  flushed,  and  her  eyes  grew  misty 
with  longing.  The  babe  raised  one  hand  and  laid  it 
against  her  face.  She  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  All  the 
latent  mother-love  welled  up  in  her  heart,  and  over- 
flowed in  her  eyes.  Some  day  —  perhaps.  Some 
day! 

Outside  the  wind  howled,  and  the  rain  fell  in  tor- 
rents, beating  against  the  latticed  window,  but  Eleanor 
never  heeded.  She  was  lost  in  a  vision  which  floated 
before  her,  radiant  —  divine  !  Closer  and  closer  she 
drew  the  babe  to  her  breast,  and  rocked  it  to  and  fro 
in  a  very  ecstasy  of  love. 

Old  Lavender  put  the  boy  safely  into  his  bed  in 
the  old  raftered  room  overhead.  Just  as  she  had 
done  so,  she  heard  the  sharp  tinkle  of  the  shop  bell. 
"  Coming ! "  she  called,  cheerily.  But  it  was  a  few 
minutes  before  she  had  folded  the  child's  clothes, 
kissed  him,  and  extinguished  the  light.  Then  she 
moved  slowly  down  the  narrow  winding  stairs ;  they 


306  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

were  dark  and  uneven,  and  her  old  knees  were  stiff. 
As  she  reached  the  lowest  step,  she  stopped  suddenly. 
Sir  Henry  Trevor  was  standing,  gazing  into  the  inner 
room,  where,  all  unconscious  of  his  presence,  his  wife 
was  crooning  to  the  babe  in  her  arms.  Lavender 
could  see  her  from  the  stairway.  Her  face  reflected 
the  beauty  of  her  thoughts,  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
the  little  face.  Her  gaze  was  not  more  intent  than 
Sir  Henry's,  as  he  watched  her.  For  some  seconds 
there  was  silence,  broken  only  by  Eleanor's  low, 
soothing  murmur.  No  one  moved  —  no  one  spoke. 
Then,  Sir  Henry  drew  himself  up,  and  slowly  —  as 
if  unable  to  tear  himself  away  —  he  turned  and  left 
the  shop,  as  he  had  come  —  without  speaking. 

Whatever  may  have  been  old  Lavender's  thoughts, 
she  made  no  comment  as  she  busied  herself  with 
simple  duties.  Presently,  the  little  lids  closed  over 
the  blue  eyes,  the  little  thumb  fell  away  from  the  rosy 
mouth  —  the  babe  slumbered,  sweetly  and  soundly. 
Eleanor  rose ;  she  laid  the  child  on  the  sofa,  and 
drew  the  coverings  round  it  with  lingering  tender- 
ness. 

"  Good-night,  Lavender,"  she  said.     "  Thank  you." 

"  'Tis  no  fit  night  for  you,  to  be  sure,  m'  lady," 
said  the  old  woman,  as  she  opened  the  door,  but 
Eleanor  did  not  answer,  as  she  stepped  out  into  the 
darkness. 

She  walked  swiftly  homeward,  unconscious  of  the 


LAVENDER'S  BABIES  307 

rain  which  beat  upon  her  uncovered  face.  In  her 
heart  was  sounding  still  the  strange  sweet  music. 
She  felt  still  the  caress  of  the  tiny  hand  upon  her 
cheek,  and  the  warmth  of  the  tender  form  within  the 
hollow  of  her  arm. 

It  was  not  until  she  reached  her  room  that  she 
became  aware  that  she  was  suffering  acutely.  The 
exaltation  of  her  mind  had  overruled  all  physical 
sensation  for  the  time.  But  as  she  took  off  her  coat, 
the  pain  of  her  scalded  arm  became  almost  unbearable. 

"  I  have  had  a  slight  accident,  and  burnt  my  arm, 
Wilson,"  she  said  to  her  maid.  "  I  think  you  must 
bind  it  up  for  me,  and  give  me  the  lace  gown  with 
the  long  sleeves." 

"  Oh !  m'  lady !  what  a  dreadful  burn,"  cried  the 
woman,  aghast,  as  she  stripped  off  the  sleeve  care- 
fully. "  If  you  will  wait  a  moment,  I  will  fetch  some 
ointment.  Mrs.  Johns  has  some  which  she  made  for 
one  of  the  servants  a  few  days  ago  ";  and  later,  when 
the  dressing  was  complete,  she  said,  "  Will  you  not  let 
me  arrange  a  sling  for  it,  m'  lady  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Eleanor,  decidedly.  "  I  do  not  wish 
any  fuss  made  about  it.  It  is  better  already,  thank 
you." 

"  Did  you  get  very  wet  ?  "  asked  Sir  Henry,  as  his 
wife  entered  the  drawing-room.  "  It  is  a  wretched 
night." 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  raining  much  when  I  came 
in.  I  didn't  notice  it." 


308  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  I  hear  the  floods  are  out  all  round  Larnham,  and 
trees  are  down  in  many  places.  Two  have  fallen  in 
the  Park.  It  is  the  worst  storm  they  have  had  in 
this  part  of  the  country  for  years." 

As  Eleanor  took  the  arm  he  offered,  he  laid  his 
other  hand  on  hers,  for  a  moment,  and  seemed  about 
to  speak,  but  he  did  not  do  so,  and  they  passed  into 
the  dining-room. 

During  the  meal  they  talked  of  Bolding,  whom 
Sir  Henry  had  seen  that  day,  and  of  his  preparation 
for  his  departure ;  of  the  war,  and  its  probable  dura- 
tion ;  and  every  now  and  then  Sir  Henry's  eyes  would 
seek  his  wife's  with  a  curiously  intent  expression. 
When  dinner  was  over,  he  walked  with  her  into  the 
drawing-room. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  smoke,"  he  said.  "  May  I  come 
with  you?" 

Eleanor  nodded.  There  was  something  unusual  in 
his  manner  to-night,  and  an  inflection  in  his  voice  as 
he  spoke  which  made  her  heart  beat  more  quickly. 
She  sat  down  in  her  chair,  and  took  up  some  knit- 
ting, but,  finding  her  arm  too  painful,  laid  it  down 
again. 

Sir  Henry  stood  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  face. 

"  It  is  nice  to  have  an  evening  alone,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  I  don't  often  get  you  to  myself." 

A  pulse  in  Eleanor's  throat  began  to  throb  with 


LAVENDER'S  BABIES  809 

almost  painful  rapidity.  She  could  not  meet  his 
eyes. 

"  You  are  happy  ?  "  he  asked,  almost  roughly. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  rather  unsteadily. 

"  Could  you  be  happier  ? "  he  asked  again,  but 
much  more  gently.  "  Look  at  me,"  he  said,  as  she 
made  no  reply.  He  moved  a  step  forward  as  he 
spoke.  "  Could  you  be  happier  ?  " 

The  feeling  in  his  voice  compelled  Eleanor  to  raise 
her  eyes.  Then,  overcome  by  a  blind  instinct  to 
escape,  she  rose  hurriedly,  and  turned  away.  In  a 
moment  she  felt  his  arms  round  her.  He  drew  her 
closer  to  him.  "  Eleanor !  "  he  said,  in  a  low,  tense 
whisper. 

She  tried  in  vain  to  smother  the  scream  of  physical 
agony  which  escaped  her  lips. 

"Oh!  —  Don't  — !" 

Sir  Henry  released  her  instantly,  and  stood  look- 
ing at  her,  as  she  sank  into  a  chair,  white  and 
trembling. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  he  said  stiffly.  Then  —  he 
walked  to  the  door. 

Half  stupefied  by  the  intense  pain  of  her  arm, 
which  had  been  crushed  in  his  embrace,  Eleanor 
could  not  speak.  Another  moment,  and  it  was  too 
late,  for  she  was  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


"  The  storm  is  up,  and  all  is  on  the  hazard." 

—  JULIUS  CJESAR. 

THE  next  morning,  under  the  care  of  Wilson,  Joan 
departed  for  her  weekly  music  lesson  at  Townborough. 
The  child  showed  signs  of  a  considerable  aptitude  for 
music,  and  Eleanor  had  arranged  for  her  to  have  a 
course  of  lessons  from  a  good  master.  It  was  the 
rule  for  her  to  drive  to  Larnham  every  Thursday,  and 
then  go  by  train  to  Townborough,  returning  the  same 
way  in  the  afternoon.  And  to-day,  Eleanor  was  glad 
to  be  alone. 

More  than  once  during  the  morning  she  had  found 
herself  at  the  door  of  her  husband's  library ;  but  she 
had  lacked  the  courage  to  enter.  If  only  she  could 
go  to  him  and  explain  the  cause  of  her  action  of  the 
night  before !  but  every  time  she  reached  the  door, 
shyness  overcame  her. 

At  last,  feeling  restless  and  overwrought,  she  put 
on  her  hat  and  coat,  and  started  to  walk,  hoping  that 
the  exercise  might  soothe  her  nerves.  On  all  sides 
she  saw  traces  of  the  havoc  wrought  by  the  storm. 
A  large  bough  of  the  cedar  lay  across  the  lawn,  the 
scar  of  its  wrenching  showing  like  a  white  seam  on 

310 


AN  ACCIDENT  AND  A  STORM  311 

the  rugged  trunk  of  the  parent  tree.  About  fifty 
yards  from  the  house,  a  giant  elm  had  broken  off 
close  to  the  ground,  leaving  only  a  few  feet  of  splin- 
tered ruin  to  mark  the  spot  where  it  had  stood  in  its 
pride  and  strength  a  few  short  hours  before. 

For  the  moment  the  rain  had  ceased,  but  low,  inky 
clouds  scudded  across  the  sky,  driven  swiftly  by  the 
force  of  the  wind,  which  had  not  abated.  As  Eleanor 
battled  against  its  sudden  onslaughts,  her  mood  was 
in  tune  with  it,  for  in  her  heart  there  surged  a  fierce, 
wild  joy.  What  mattered  a  few  moments  of  mis- 
understanding? When  next  they  met,  surely  that 
could  be  easily  explained  —  easily  put  right.  Surely 
his  action  could  only  bear  one  interpretation  —  he 
loved  her — he  wanted  her !  He  had  not  been  in  the 
house  at  luncheon  time;  that  was  not  unusual,  and 
she  had  been  glad  of  it.  When  they  met  again,  she 
hoped  so  much  that  they  might  be  alone  together ; 
just  he  and  she — that  there  might  be  no  witness  to 
that  meeting  which  was  to  alter  the  whole  of  life,  for 
her  —  and  for  him. 

Absorbed  in  her  thoughts,  she  did  not  notice  how 
time  was  passing,  nor  that  the  clouds  were  becoming 
every  moment  more  threatening,  until  a  few  drops  of 
rain  recalled  her  to  the  present.  On  looking  at  her 
watch,  she  found  it  was  half  past  three,  and  hurriedly 
retraced  her  steps.  At  the  hall  door  she  found  the 
butler  waiting. 


312  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  Has  Miss  Joan  returned  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  m'  lady,  not  yet.  The  carriage  went  to  meet 
her  as  usual." 

"  The  weather  looks  very  bad.  I  shall  be  glad  when 
she  comes  in." 

"  Very  bad  this  afternoon,  m'  lady."  And  then  the 
man  added,  "  I  can  see  the  brougham  now,  m'  lady, 
coming  in  at  the  gate." 

Eleanor  turned  to  look,  and  as  she  watched,  she 
noticed  that  the  coachman  was  driving  quickly,  al- 
most recklessly,  very  different  to  Dobbs's  usual  sedate 
pace.  With,  a  sudden  premonition  of  evil  she  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"  Something  is  wrong !     What  can  be  the  matter  ?  " 

The  horses  pulled  up  with  a  clatter,  and  Dobbs  said, 
quickly, 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  m'  lady,  Miss  Joan  has  not 
come !  The  train  was  delayed.  There  has  been  an 
accident." 

"An  accident?" 

"  Yes,  m'  lady.  They  say  the  line  broke  down  with 
the  water,  about  a  mile  out  of  Townborough ;  but  I 
couldn't  get  to  know  any  particulars.  I  came  back  as 
fast  as  I  could  for  orders,  m'  lady." 

The  man's  voice  was  full  of  anxiety,  and  the  end 
of  the  sentence  was  lost  in  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  and 
rain. 

"  An  accident !     Little  Joan !  "     Eleanor  flew  to 


AN  ACCIDENT   AND  A   STORM  313 

the  library,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  entered 
without  hesitation.  Sir  Henry  was  standing  by  the 
fire. 

"  Henry ! "  she  gasped.  "  Joan !  There  has  been 
an  accident ! " 

"  Where  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  quickly. 

"  Near  Townborough.     The  line  is  under  water ! " 

"  All  right ;  I'll  go  !  Try  not  to  be  anxious."  He 
was  half-way  across  the  room  as  he  spoke.  "  Turner ! 
order  the  mares  and  the  phaeton,  at  once ! " 

Turner  ran  out  to  tell  Dobbs,  who  drove  quickly  to 
the  stables. 

"  I  must  come  !  "  said  Eleanor. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  her  husband.  "  It  will  be  a 
rough  drive,  but  it  will  be  better  for  you  than  sitting 
here." 

Eleanor  ran  upstairs,  and  returned  in  a  very  short 
time,  ready  to  start.  Sir  Henry  was  just  buttoning 
his  coat.  He  looked  at  her  as  she  approached. 

"  Are  you  well  wrapped  up  ?  No  !  that's  no  use. 
Turner !  where  is  my  fur  coat  ?  Put  this  on,"  he 
said,  when  the  man  brought  it.  "And  take  off  that 
hat.  This  cap  will  be  warmer.  The  wind  is  stronger 
than  you  think."  Then  he  took  a  lace  scarf  from 
Eleanor's  hand.  "  Let  me  do  it,"  he  said.  Neatly 
and  expeditiously  he  wound  the  scarf  round  her  head 
and  neck,  tying  it  firmly  under  her  chin,  and  tucking 
the  ends  inside  the  coat,  which  he  buttoned  with  care. 


314  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"There ! "  he  said,  "  that  is  better.  Try  not  to  be  too 
anxious ;  I  am  sure  the  child  is  all  right." 

The  pair  of  young,  half-broken  mares  were  kicking 
and  plunging  as  Dobbs  brought  them  round.  A  stable- 
man ran  to  their  heads.  Dobbs  got  down.  Sir  Henry 
walked  round,  examining  the  harness  with  a  critical  eye. 

"Take  up  that  curb  two  rings,"  he  said  sharply. 
Then  he  mounted  the  box.  "  Come,  Eleanor,"  he 
said,  holding  out  his  left  hand.  "  Whoa !  my  lass, 
steady ! "  Eleanor  scrambled  up  as  he  steadied  the 
horses  with  voice  and  hand.  "  Now  Tom  !  —  No, 
Dobbs,  not  to-night.  This  is  no  job  for  you !  " 

The  old  servant  ventured  on  a  word  of  protest. 

"  Oh  !  please,  Sir  Henry." 

"  No !  "  repeated  his  master,  kindly  but  decidedly. 
"Up  you  get,  Tom,  and  don't  get  down  till  I  tell 
you !  Remember  that  ! " 

Once  their  heads  were  released,  the  horses  changed 
their  minds,  and  appeared  as  anxious  to  stand  still 
as  they  had  previously  been  to  depart.  Sir  Henry 
raised  his  whip,  and  brought  it  down  heavily,  twice. 
With  a  rear  and  a  plunge  they  started  at  full  gallop. 
Through  the  gates  they  flew  as  if  pursued  by  furies. 

"  It's  all  right ! "  said  Sir  Henry,  shortly,  without 
turning  his  head,  and  for  the  next  half  mile  he  was 
fully  occupied  in  keeping  the  excited  beasts  under 
control.  He  was  absolutely  cool  and  collected,  and 
apparently  perfectly  confident. 


AN  ACCIDENT  AND  A   STORM  315 

Eleanor  watched  him  with  astonishment.  This 
side  of  his  character  was  entirely  new  to  her.  In 
spite  of  her  anxiety,  she  felt  an  excitement  which 
grew  stronger  every  moment.  The  pair  steadied 
presently  into  a  trot,  which  was  interrupted  every 
few  paces  by  an  excited  plunge,  or  a  shy  at  a  puddle. 

"They're  all  right,"  said  Sir  Henry.  "They're 
young.  I've  been  breaking  them  in  the  early  morn- 
ings. They're  not  quite  fit  for  a  lady  yet."  He 
stooped  over  and  arranged  the  rug  more  securely 
over  Eleanor.  "  Frightened  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  answered  quietly. 

«  That's  all  right." 

All  went  well  until,  as  they  turned  sharply  to  the 
right  along  the  Larnham  road,  they  met  the  full 
force  of  the  gale;  wind  and  rain  straight  in  their 
faces.  The  nervous  mares  pulled  up  short,  hesitated, 
and  swerved.  The  groom  rose  from  his  seat;  then, 
remembering  Sir  Henry's  words,  sat  down  again 
abruptly,  casting  anxious  glances  over  his  shoulder. 
Crack  !  Crack  !  Down  came  the  whip,  in  an  instant 
raising  weals  along  the  sleek  bay  flanks.  The  mares 
evidently  considered  the  weather  the  lesser  evil,  for 
they  threw  themselves  into  the  collars.  The  roar  of 
the  wind  and  the  rain  drowned  the  rattle  of  the  pole 
chains  and  the  wheels ;  it  screamed  past  like  witches 
let  loose,  it  tore  at  Eleanor's  wraps,  and  stung  like 
needles  against  her  face.  After  a  while,  Sir  Henry 
shouted :  — 


316  TKEVOR  LOKDSHIP 

"  I  shall  go  across  the  fields.  It  will  save  a  couple 
of  miles."  He  moved  forward  on  his  seat.  "  Stoop 
behind  ine,  I  can  shelter  you  a  bit !  "  He  raised  his 
arm,  and  she  crouched  close  to  him. 

All  thought  of  their  errand  was  gone,  all  anxiety 
swept  away,  torn  into  ribbons  by  the  exhilaration 
which  possessed  her,  body  and  soul.  The  fury  of  the 
elements,  the  excitement  of  her  nerves,  the  closeness 
of  physical  contact,  set  her  pulses  throbbing  with  a 
mad  delight.  Her  husband  stooped  again.  He 
looked  into  her  eyes,  and  she  met  his  fearlessly. 

"  All  right?  "  he  asked  tenderly. 

Eleanor  laughed.  A  low  laugh  of  absolute  content. 
Then  the  gale  was  on  them  again,  and  drowned  the 
word  he  spoke.  On  and  on  they  went;  the  mares 
going  well,  with  long,  raking  strides,  which  threw  the 
miles  behind  them.  Hedges  and  trees  slipped  past, 
indistinct  and  ghostly.  At  last  Sir  Henry  pulled  up. 
"  Gate ! "  he  shouted,  and  Tom  leaped  from  the 
carriage.  Down  fell  the  whip  again,  and  they  were 
cantering  over  the  grass  meadows,  which  even  here, 
although  still  on  high  ground  some  miles  from  the 
river,  showed  patches  of  gleaming  water  in  the 
gathering  dusk.  There  was  a  splash  as  the  near 
mare  lost  her  footing  on  the  marshy  ground,  but  she 
was  up  again  in  an  instant,  and,  snorting  with  terror, 
the  pair  dashed  on.  On  and  on  —  first  grass  for  a 
bit  —  then  more  water  —  then  a  sharp  pull  up  along 


AN  ACCIDENT   AND  A   STORM  317 

a  hedgerow.  "  Look  out ! "  cried  Sir  Henry. 
Eleanor  crouched  behind  him,  as  a  low  bough 
swept  over  their  heads  —  a  lurch  —  a  small  bank  — 
a  thump  — and  they  were  on  the  high  road  again. 
A  jerk  over  a  branch  lying  in  the  way  threw  her 
forward ;  in  an  instant  her  husband's  arm  was  round 
her.  He  held  her  for  the  fraction  of  a  second  — 
did  he  say  "  Nell "  ?  or  was  it  her  imagination  ? 
She  hardly  knew  — she  hardly  cared.  Had  death 
itself  faced  her  with  unspeakable  torments,  she  would 
not  have  flinched  !  As  she  leaned  against  him,  she 
could  feel  the  strong  muscles  of  his  arm  working  as 
he  controlled  the  horses  —  every  fibre  of  her  being 
thrilled  in  response. 

On  and  on ;  the  mares  were  going  slower  now  - 
sobered  by  the  familiar  feel  of  the  road  under  their 
feet,  their  spirits  chastened,  but  not  subdued.  Tom, 
behind,  began  to  draw  his  breath  more  freely.  Never, 
in  the  whole  course  of  his  rural  life,  had  he  had  such 
an  experience.  He  ceased  to  repeat  the  grace  before 
meat,  which  had  been  the  only  prayer  he  had  been 
able  to  remember,  and  began  to  think  of  the  story  he 
would  tell  later.  His  opinion  of  Sir  Henry  had  been 
high  before ;  he  had  seen  him  handle  the  mares  from 
the  first,  but,  as  he  expressed  it  later,  "  Lord !  you 
should  have  seen  him  handle  them  fillies  that  night !  " 

The  lights  of  Townborough  twinkled  in  the  dis- 
tance ;  the  wind  lessened  as  the  road  passed  under  the 
sheltering  side  of  a  wood. 


318  TEEVOE  LOEDSHIP 

"Don't  be  anxious,"  Sir  Henry  said  consolingly. 
"  We  shall  soon  be  in  now." 

Eleanor  sat  up  straight.  The  spell  broke.  The 
nearness  of  human  habitation  necessitated  composure, 
and  with  some  degree  of  calmness  came  again  the 
thought  of  little  Joan.  How  could  she  have  forgot- 
ten her  ? 

They  clattered  up  the  street,  and  into  the  station 
yard.  Tom  jumped  down,  and  ran  to  the  horses' 
heads. 

"Wait  here,"  said  Sir  Henry;  and  he  got  down 
quickly  and  went  into  the  station.  After  a  minute 
he  returned.  "  It's  all  right,"  he  called  cheerily ; 
"  we  shall  find  the  child  at  the  hotel." 

He  helped  her  down  ;  they  walked  across  the  yard ; 
and  in  another  moment,  Joan  was  in  Eleanor's  arms. 

"  Oh  !  Aunt  Eleanor,  it  was  such  fun,"  she  cried, 
dancing  about.  "  We  were  all  in  the  'water !  They 
had  to  get  a  boat  before  we  could  get  out !  " 

"  Oh,  m'  lady,  it  was  dreadful !  "  said  Wilson,  tear- 
fully. "  Did  you  get  my  telegram  ?  I  kept  telling 
Miss  Joan  we  could  not  expect  you  for  another  hour. 
She  is  so  excited  I  can't  keep  her  quiet." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Henry !  it  was  a  sort  of  bump,  and  a 
shiver,  and  then  we  fell  on  to  the  floor ! " 

"  Did  the  carriage  turn  over  ?" 

"No,  not  ours.  Only  the  engine  and  the  front 
one.  It  was  such  a  bump  !  " 


AN  ACCIDENT  AND  A   STORM  319 

"  Hush !  hush  !  "  said  Eleanor,  soothingly.  "  Try 
not  to  think  any  more  about  it." 

"  We  must  try  and  get  her  home  as  quickly  as  we 
can,"  said  Sir  Henry,  leaving  the  room.  He  returned 
after  a  few  minutes. 

"  Broughton  is  here,"  he  said,  "  with  his  motor. 
"  He's  going  to  send  you  back  in  it." 

Eleanor  rose. 

"And  you —  ?"  she  faltered. 

"  I  must  drive  the  horses  back ;  but  you'll  be  best 
in  the  motor.  You'll  have  to  go  some  way  round  to 
avoid  the  water,  but  you'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour." 

He  carried  the  child  to  the  waiting  car,  and  they 
sped  away  into  the  darkness. 

Two  hours  later,  Eleanor  was  pacing  up  and  down 
her  room.  She  had  undressed,  and  put  on  a  loose 
white  gown ;  her  long  hair  fell  in  two  shining  plaits 
far  below  her  waist.  She  had  left  Joan  asleep  at 
last,  with  a  maid  to  watch  her.  Now,  at  last,  she 
was  alone  —  alone  with  her  joy,  and  her  hope ! 

She  had  been  disappointed  at  not  returning  with 
her  husband  ;  but  of  course  it  was  necessary  she  should 
come  with  little  Joan  —  but  —  he  would  come  — 
surely  he  would  come  to  her.  He  would  take  her  in 
his  arms  as  he  had  done  last  night  —  and  she  would 
tell  him  of  her  love  —  and  sob  the  last  trace  of  her 
longing  away  upon  his  breast ! 


320  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Listen  as  she  might  for  the  sound  of  horses  trot- 
ting, she  could  hear  nothing  but  the  howling  of  the 
wind.  Wilson  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Can  I  help  you,  m'  lady  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It's  get- 
ting very  late,  and  you  are  so  tired." 

Eleanor  dismissed  her  kindly,  but  the  faithful 
woman  was  not  to  be  denied,  and  in  half  an  hour  she 
came  again.  This  time  Eleanor  could  not  refuse  her, 
so  she  went  to  bed  to  satisfy  the  maid,  who  attended 
to  her  requirements,  and  arranged  the  room  for  the 
night.  Then  she  turned  off  the  light,  and  Eleanor 
was  alone  again.  She  lay  perfectly  still,  perfectly 
rigid,  with  every  nerve  strung  tensely  to  its  highest 
pitch,  one  question  repeating  itself  over  and  over 
again,  "  Will  he  come?" 

After  a  long  time,  —  was  it  one  hour  ?  or  was  it  ten  ? 
she  could  not  tell,  —  the  door  opened  softly.  Eleanor 
did  not  move  —  she  could  not  move.  Then — she  heard 
the  rustle  of  a  dress  —  she  could  have  screamed,  but 
she  made  no  sound.  The  woman  crept  to  the  bedside, 
and  after  standing  a  moment,  went  out  again,  and 
shut  the  door  softly. 

Eleanor  sprang  up;  she  could  lie  still  no  longer. 
Surely  that  was  the  sound  of  horses  —  at  last  — 
but  no  —  it  was  only  the  frenzy  of  the  gale !  Up  and 
down  the  room  she  paced  —  listening  —  listening  — 
At  last  —  she  heard  a  door  bang,  somewhere  in  the 
house,  and  footsteps,  soft,  but  unmistakable,  coming 


AN   ACCIDENT  AND  A  STORM  321 

up  the  stairs.  In  the  passage  they  stopped  for  a  while 
—  Eleanor  strained  her  ears  in  vain.  Then  —  slowly 
they  came  nearer  —  and  halted  outside  her  door.  She 
made  no  sound,  only  her  hands  clasped  over  her  heart 
to  still  its  wild  beating;  every  second  seemed  a  thou- 
sand years.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  handle  of 
the  door.  They  were  shining  like  stars  —  her  whole 
face  transfigured  with  the  greatness  of  her  love. 

"Surely  —  " 

Then  slowly  —  lingeringly  —  but  unmistakably  — 
the  footsteps  moved  again  —  receding  this  time — until 
they  died  away. 

For  a  minute  Eleanor  stood,  unable  to  grasp  the 
truth,  unable  to  believe  that  her  ears  did  not  deceive 
her.  Then —  she  sank  down  on  the  floor,  and  buried 
her  burning  face  in  her  hands. 

Sir  Henry  had  been  delayed  at  Townborough ;  one 
of  the  mares  had  cast  a  shoe.  It  took  some  time  to 
have  this  matter  put  right,  and  then  he  started  on  his 
homeward  drive.  It  was  impossible  to  hurry;  the 
strength  of  the  young  animals  had  been  heavily  taxed 
already.  Eager  as  he  was  to  arrive  at  his  journey's 
end,  he  was  forced  to  let  them  take  their  own 
time. 

At  last  he  reached  the  Lodge,  and  turned  into  the 
avenue.  His  eyes  scanned  the  house,  only  to  be  dis- 
appointed. There  was  no  light  in  Eleanor's  window. 


322  TKEVOR  LOEDSHIP 

How  he  had  counted  on  seeing  that  light  he  did  not 
realize  until  now. 

He  drove  into  the  stable  yard,  and  after  a  word  to 
the  waiting  coachman,  he  entered  the  house  by  the 
side  door.  Divesting  himself  of  coat  and  cap,  he 
walked  quickly,  but  softly,  up  the  stairs.  Wilson  was 
standing  like  a  faithful  watch  dog  at  the  open  door  of 
Joan's  room. 

"  All  right  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Yes,  sir !  Miss  Joan  and  m'  lady  are  both  asleep. 
I  have  just  come  from  her  ladyship.  She  seemed  so 
tired  that  I  was  anxious,  but  she's  in  a  beautiful  sleep 
now." 

Sir  Henry  said  nothing.  Stepping  very  softly  to 
his  wife's  door,  he  stood  —  listening  —  listening. 
Once  his  hand  moved  to  the  handle,  but  he  drew  it 
back.  He  could  hear  no  sound.  Then,  slowly,  he 
retraced  his  steps,  and  went  downstairs. 

It  was  the  next  morning.  Sir  Henry  was  standing 
in  the  hall,  ostensibly  reading  the  newspaper.  If  any 
one  had  been  there,  however,  they  would  have  seen 
that  his  attention  was  elsewhere.  His  eyes  turned 
constantly  in  the  direction  of  the  staircase,  and  he 
was  evidently  waiting  for  a  sound  that  did  not  come. 
There  was  something  expectant  in  his  whole  figure,  as 
he  stood  there  listening.  Presently  he  threw  down 
the  paper,  and  took  out  his  watch.  It  was  nearly 


AN  ACCIDENT  AND  A  STOEM  323 

eleven  o'clock.  Then  a  door  opened,  and  Turner 
came  in. 

"  Dobbs  has  sent  in,  Sir  Henry,  to  say  that  he  would 
be  glad  if  you  would  come  round  to  the  stables  at  once. 
Something  wrong  with  one  of  the  mares,  sir." 

Sir  Henry  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  come." 

He  picked  up  a  cap,  and  walked  out  of  the  front 
door.  About  five  minutes  later  Eleanor  came  slowly 
down  the  stairs,  and  entered  the  morning  room. 
Her  face  was  very  white ;  blue  lines  under  her  eyes 
told  plainly  of  her  vigil  and  her  tears.  The  listless 
droop  of  her  whole  body  spoke  of  hope  departed. 
She  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  staring  out 
into  the  sullen  greyness  of  the  day.  The  wind  had 
fallen ;  there  was  just  enough  now  to  send  an  occa- 
sional shiver,  as  if  of  pain,  through  the  tree-tops; 
just  enough  to  echo  with  a  sobbing  murmur  through 
their  shattered  boughs.  The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the 
skies  were  dull  and  heavy.  The  elements  seemed 
spent  after  their  passion,  weary  and  desolate.  Grey 
world —  grey  skies  —  and  before  Eleanor's  eyes  there 
seemed  to  unroll  in  front  of  her  a  long,  straight  road, 
seemingly  endless.  Far,  far  into  the  future  she  could 
see  it  —  and  always  she  walked  on  it  alone.  No 
flowers  —  no  trees.  No  strong  arm  to  shield  her 
from  the  stones  upon  the  way  —  she  could  feel  the 
strength  of  it  now  against  her  own,  as  she  had  felt  it 


324  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

last  night  —  was  it  last  night,  or  was  it  centuries 
ago?  .  .  . 

A  sound  made  her  turn  her  head,  as  Roger  Bold- 
ing  walked  into  the  room. 

"  Good-morning,  Lady  Trevor,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
just  left  your  husband  in  the  stables.  He  said  you 
weren't  down  yet.  I  was  so  sorry  to  hear  of  your 
anxiety  last  night ;  I  hope  you  are  none  the  worse. 
You  look  dreadfully  tired." 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  replied ;  "  but  nothing  more. 
Joan  will  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two.  She  is  suffer- 
ing from  the  effects  of  the  excitement,  so  I  am  keep- 
ing her  in  bed." 

"  It  was  a  narrow  escape.  I  saw  the  engine  in  the 
water  this  morning  as  I  rode  past.  The  rails  had 
slipped.  It  is  lucky  no  lives  were  lost.  It  is  sad 
about  the  mare ;  she  seems  in  a  bad  way." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sorry,"  said  Eleanor.  "  I  had  not 
heard." 

"  Your  husband  seems  to  think  she  may  pull 
through.  You  had  a  thrilling  drive  last  night !  " 

"  Yes  !  "  she  repeated  slowly.  "  I  had  a  thrilling 
drive  last  night." 

Bolding  looked  at  her  keenly ;  she  seemed  changed 
somehow.  For  an  instant  a  wild  thought  shot 
through  his  mind,  only  to  be  as  instantly  dismissed. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  My  preparations 
are  completed.  They  didn't  take  long." 


AN  ACCIDENT  AND  A  STORM  825 

"  When  are  you  going  ?  " 

"I  am  going  to-morrow.  I  have  come  to  say  — 
good-bye  —  " 

"So  soon  —  ?" 

"Yes.  I  have  had  a  telegram  from  a  friend  I 
wrote  to  at  the  War  Office.  He  thinks  he  can  help 
me  if  I'm  on  the  spot.  I'm  taking  a  couple  of  horses, 
and  my  man.  He  has  been  with  me  for  years  —  a 
good  fellow  —  he  insists  on  going  with  me.  You  can 
imagine  me  sitting  on  the  wharf  at  Southampton, 
waiting  for  a  boat !  " 

"  It  seems  so  very  sudden,"  said  Eleanor. 

The  war,  South  Africa,  and  even  Roger  Bolding, 
seemed  quite  remote,  outside  the  compass  of  her  brain 
this  morning. 

"  It  is  not  sudden,  really,"  he  answered  slowly. 
"  My  going,  I  mean.  I  have  been  meaning  to  go  for 
some  time.  It  is  better  that  I  should  go.  Then 
when  the  war  came,  it  gave  me  my  chance." 

"I  am  sorry  you  are  going." 

"Are  you?"  he  said,  with  a  faint  smile.  "I 
wonder  —  shall  I  tell  you  why  I  go  ?  " 

He  turned  and  walked  across  the  room,  and  con- 
tinued speaking  with  his  back  towards  her. 

"  You  asked  me  months  ago  why  I  didn't  marry. 
Shall  I  tell  you  ?  There  is  one  woman  in  the  world 
for  me,  —  one  woman  whom  I  love,  —  and  we  met  too 
late.  That  is  all.  That  is  why  I  am  going." 


326  TREVOR   LORDSHIP 

What  did  he  mean  ?  Eleanor  did  not  understand. 
She  could  only  think  of  Mildred.  Was  it  possible 
that  he  had  loved  the  girl  ?  He  came  nearer  to  her. 
His  face  looked  drawn,  his  eyes  very  sad. 

"Did  you  never  guess?  But  there  —  why  do  I 
ask  ?  I  know  you  never  did !  Well,  I'm  going  now ; 
we  are  going  to  say  good-bye  —  we  may  never  meet 
again;  and  before  I  go,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  I 
love  one  woman !  I  am  hers,  utterly  —  body  and 
soul,  and  she  doesn't  want  me,  doesn't  even  know ! 
Don't  you  know  ?  Can't  you  guess  —  that  I  love  — 
you?" 

Eleanor  put  up  her  hands  as  if  to  avoid  a  blow,  his 
words  were  so  absolutely  unexpected. 

"Oh  — No,  no!" 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  he  said  more  quietly,  as  if 
under  a  strong  restraint.  "A  man's  honest  love 
never  hurt  a  woman  yet.  I  would  not  hurt  you ! 
And  I  did  want  you  to  know.  You  do  not  love  me — 
I  know  it.  Perhaps  I  might  have  made  you  love 
me,"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of  grimness  in  his  voice. 
"  I  never  tried  —  thank  God !  Only !  "  and  he  gave 
a  little  laugh  which  was  very  sad  to  hear,  "  I  can't 
be  with  you  any  longer,  and  hide  it.  A  man  gets  to 
his  limit  some  day  —  and  then  —  well,  I  might  hurt 
you  —  without  wanting  to  ! " 

Eleanor  had  sunk  into  a  chair;  her  hands  were 
gripping  the  arms,  the  knuckles  showing  white  with 


AN  ACCIDENT  AND  A   STORM  327 

the  force  of  her  grasp.  Her  eyes  —  dilated  — 
frightened  —  were  fixed  upon  his  face. 

"  And  so  —  I  go  !  Thank  you,"  he  said  gently, 
"  for  many  happy  days,  many  words  of  good  counsel, 
many  friendly  actions.  You  have  given  me  all  you 
could  —  more,  far  more  than  I  deserve.  Don't  look 
like  that !  There  is  no  need  !  I'm  going  willingly — 
gladly  !  I  may  do  something  useful  —  who  knows  — 
something  more  worthy  of  your  friendship,  than  this 
idle,  useless  life." 

"  You  will  come  back,"  she  faltered. 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  he  answered,  with  a  slight  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  "  I  might  almost  say  I  hope  not ! 
Don't  trouble  about  me  !  Give  me  a  thought  some- 
times, just  a  happy,  careless  thought  —  that's  all  I 
ask." 

Eleanor  rose  to  her  feet,  and  held  out  both  her 
hands.  He  took  them  in  his  —  and  gazed  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  !  my  dear !  "  he  said  brokenly.  "  If 
things  had  been  different ! "  He  pressed  his  lips 
passionately  to  the  hands  he  held.  "  Good-bye!  "  he 
said. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  friend  !  "  she  whispered. 

Bolding  did  not  speak,  only  his  grip  tightened  on 
her  hands  with  a  painful  intensity.  Then,  he  released 
them  —  and  without  looking  back,  he  left  her. 

Eleanor  dropped  back  into  her  seat,  and,  laying  her 


328  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

head  upon  her  folded  arms,  burst  into  a  passion  of 
weeping.  For  one  moment  she  wished  desperately 
that  she  could  have  taken  this  man's  strong,  honest 
affection  —  for  such  she  knew  it  to  be,  she  could 
not  doubt  it.  How  she  longed  to  be  loved  like  this ! 

Truly  she  was  brought  very  low,  she  thought  bitterly. 
How  often  had  she  condemned  women  who  had 
turned  from  their  husbands  to  the  love  of  another. 
And  now  !  If,  as  he  had  said,  things  had  been  dif- 
ferent, she  could  have  cared  for  him,  deeply,  truly. 
As  it  was,  with  her  heart  half  broken  with  a  love  that 
seemed  to  her  unreturned,  undesired — she  had  nothing 
to  give  him  —  but  if  things  had  been  different !  Ah! 
If! 

She  was  physically  worn  out  with  her  emotion  of  the 
previous  night,  and  she  lay  there  —  her  whole  frame 
shaking  from  time  to  time  with  heavy,  shuddering 
sobs.  She  was  lost  to  her  surroundings.  She  did 
not  hear  the  door  open,  or  see  her  husband  enter. 
Sir  Henry  walked  in,  quickly,  eagerly.  He  stopped 
abruptly  when  he  saw  her.  For  a  long  moment  he 
watched  her,  the  colour  slowly  fading  from  his  face, 
leaving  it  ashen  grey.  Then  he  turned,  and  with  his 
head  bent  upon  his  breast  he  walked  slowly  to  the 
library  —  he  entered  —  the  key  turned  sharply  in  the 
lock  —  and  there  was  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

EUREKA! 

"  That  power 
Which  erring  men  call  chance." 

—  MILTON. 

PATIENCE  and  courage  were  undeniably  qualities 
sorely  needed  by  many  sad  hearts  in  England,  during 
the  months  which  followed  the  events  recorded  in  the 
last  chapter,  for  the  optimists  who  had  cheerfully  as- 
serted that  "  it  would  be  over  in  six  months  "  were 
destined  to  find  themselves  very  much  in  the  wrong. 
Who  can  ever  forget  the  cloud  of  anxiety  and  sorrow 
which  brooded  over  the  whole  country  in  the  early 
part  of  the  year  1900,  when  reverses  and  loss  met 
our  armies  at  every  turn,  when  the  sound  of  running 
feet  in  the  street,  and  the  newsboy's  shrill  cry  of 
"  SPECHUL  EDITION  "  made  the  heart  stand  still  with 
fear,  lest  one  beloved  name  should  be  among  those 
who  had  answered  to  a  more  powerful  call  than  that 
of  patriotism  ? 

Roger  Bolding,  contrary  to  his  expectations,  had 
not  been  able  to  get  out  to  South  Africa  for  many 
weary  weeks,  which  time  he  spent,  with  many  other 
good  fellows,  in  worrying  a  much  harassed  War  Office, 
and  in  eating  his  heart  out  with  impatience, 

329 


330  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Poor  Jim  had  at  length  been  persuaded  that  it  was 
useless  idling  away  his  days  chasing  phantom  gleams 
of  hope,  which  had  invariably  ended  in  darkness,  and 
was  now  working  at  his  business  in  London.  Whether 
the  business  gained  greatly  by  the  very  half-hearted 
attention  he  bestowed  upon  it  was  another  matter; 
as  Captain  Maitland  said,  "It's  better  for  the  lad ! 
Better  for  the  lad."  So  Mrs.  Lucas  had  her  boy  at 
home  in  the  evenings,  and  was  almost  happy  in  con- 
sequence. She  would  have  been  quite  happy  if  she 
had  been  able  to  make  him  see  that  it  would  be  far 
better  to  give  up  his  foolish  notions  of  forcing  the 
dead  past  to  reveal  its  secret,  and  to  wait  patiently 
until  Mildred  was  of  age,  when  they  could  marry, 
and  live  happily  ever  after.  It  was  all  so  simple,  if 
he  would  only  look  at  it  in  the  right  light !  Mildred 
was  quite  of  this  opinion ;  she  had  ceased  to  question 
him  as  to  the  results  of  his  investigations,  and  fre- 
quently wrote  and  spoke  cheerfully  and  naturally  of 
plans  for  their  life  together  two  years  hence. 

Captain  Maitland,  who  up  to  the  present  had  re- 
fused to  acknowledge  defeat,  continued  to  search  and 
to  enquire ;  but  even  he  was  forced  to  admit  (to  him- 
self alone)  that  it  could  not  go  on  forever.  "Let 
the  lad  alone,"  he  would  urge  constantly.  "Don't 
worry  him.  It  will  all  come  right,"  but  in  what 
way,  even  he  would  have  been  sorely  puzzled  to  ex- 
plain. In  fact,  he  admitted  as  much  to  Mildred  one 


EUKEKA  331 

day  early  in  March.  They  had  just  finished  lunch- 
eon, and  he  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire  in 
the  hall  at  '  Trevor  Lordship.'  So  thoroughly  had 
the  old  man  identified  himself  with  his  friends  in 
their  trouble  that  the  strain  of  the  past  months  of 
disappointment  had  left  their  mark  on  him.  His 
shoulders  were  more  bowed,  his  hair  was  a  little 
whiter  on  his  temples,  but  his  kind  blue  eyes  were 
just  as  clear  and  alert  as  ever. 

"  I  can't  understand  it,"  he  was  saying.  "  I  am 
perfectly  certain  that  we  have  searched  the  history 
of  every  member  of  every  expedition.  Who  in  the 
world  could  the  man  have  been?  He  can't  have 
gone  absolutely  alone ! " 

"  Perhaps  he  died  out  there,"  said  Mildred. 

They  were  never  tired  of  discussing  the  matter,  al- 
though every  inch  of  the  ground  had  been  gone  over 
many,  many  times  before. 

"  Possibly,  very  possibly.  But  for  some  reason, 
which  I  don't  attempt  to  explain  even  to  myself,  I 
can't  believe  it.  I  can  give  no  reason  for  the  faith 
which  is  in  me !  "  he  added,  smiling. 

Mildred  returned  his  smile  affectionately. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  But  that  doesn't  matter.  For 
my  own  part,  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  don't  care  one 
way  or  the  other.  If  I  could  only  make  dear  old  Jim. 
see  it  in  the  same  light ;  but  I  can't,  so  there's  an 
end  of  it !  It  does  seem  so  awfully  hard  on  him !  " 


332  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Meanwhile,  Jim  was  riding  along  a  country  lane  in 
Hertfordshire,  thinking,  as  he  always  did  think,  of 
Mildred,  and  the  waiting  and  hoping  of  which  he  was 
so  utterly  weary.  Before  people,  oh,  yes,  he  could 
appear  cheery  and  courageous;  but  directly  he  was 
alone,  the  dark  thoughts  that  hovered  over  him  like 
birds  of  prey  settled  down  upon  him  in  a  trice.  He 
would  do  his  level  best  to  wrench  his  mind  away  from 
the  subject,  but  seldom  succeeded  for  more  than  a  few 
moments  at  a  time. 

He  had  been  down  in  the  country  to  transact  some 
business  with  a  friend  who  was  incapacitated  by  the 
result  of  an  accident,  and,  as  the  weather  seemed  fair, 
and  the  roads  hard  and  dry,  had  decided  to  ride  the 
twenty  miles  or  so  back  to  London  on  his  bicycle. 
The  afternoon  did  not,  however,  look  so  promising  as 
the  earlier  part  of  the  day.  Great  masses  of  dark 
cloud  swept  up  from  the  horizon,  and  the  wind  in- 
creased, rattling  in  the  bare  tree-tops  with  a  menacing 
sound,  sure  presage  of  coming  storm. 

"Nevermind!"  he  said  to  himself;  "I'll  push  on 
to  Barnet,  or  perhaps  to  Finchley,  and  go  on  by  train 
from  there.  I  ought  to  get  to  Barnet,  with  luck,  be- 
fore the  rain  comes." 

But  luck  was  apparently  not  attending  him  on 
this  occasion,  for  he  had  hardly  gone  half  a  mile  be- 
fore he  felt  a  sudden  jerk,  and  became  aware  that  there 
was  something  wrong  with  his  machine.  On  exam- 


EUREKA  333 

ination  he  found  the  damage  to  be  beyond  his  power 
to  repair. 

"  What  rotten  luck !  "  he  muttered  angrily ;  "  miles 
from  anywhere,  of  course,  and  the  nut  gone !  " 

But  since  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  proceeded  on 
foot,  pushing  the  offending  bicycle.  At  this  juncture, 
the  fickle  jade  Fortune  seemed  to  have  repented  of  her 
previous  neglect  of  him,  and  decided  to  atone  by  giv- 
ing him  a  little  of  her  personal  attention,  for  at  the 
first  turn  of  the  road,  he  found  himself  entering  a 
straggling  village  street,  where  several  women  stood 
chattering  together.  In  reply  to  his  question,  one  of 
them  stepped  forward. 

"  Young  Tom  at  the  forge,  sir !  He'll  put  it  right 
for  you.  No,  there  ain't  no  bicycle  shop  here;  but 
young  Tom,  he  knows  all  about  it.  He's  handy  with 
them  things,  he  is.  Not  that  I  hold  with  'em  myself, 
that  I  don't !  My  man,  he  got  one,  he  did,  and  what 
must  he  do  but  go  to  fall  off  the  very  first  time  he 
rode  it,  and  break  his  leg!  Spiteful  things  I  call 
'em ! " 

Talking  volubly,  she  led  the  way  to  the  forge, 
where  young  Tom  proved  equal  to  her  opinion  of 
him. 

"  I  can  do  it,  sir,"  he  said  civilly ;  "  but  it  will  be 
a  matter  of  a  few  minutes.  I  have  got  plenty  of  nuts, 
but  I  expect  they  won't  just  fit  without  a  bit  of  coax- 
ing." 


334  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Jim  lit  a  cigarette,  and  was  leaning  against  the 
doorpost  idly  watching  the  blacksmith  as  he  laid  out 
his  tools,  and  prepared  for  work,  when  a  form  rose 
from  a  bench  at  the  back  of  the  low  building,  and  a 
voice  said :  — 

"  Maybe,  sir,  you'd  like  to  see  the  church  while 
you're  waiting  ?  " 

"  Now,  now,  Grandfather,"  said  young  Tom,  laugh- 
ing. "  You  let  the  gentleman  alone.  He  don't  want 
to  see  no  churches !  " 

"  There  be  some  fine  monnyments !  sir,  and  that  be 
but  a  few  steps ! " 

"  Certainly  I'll  come,"  said  Jim,  cheerfully. 

"  He's  that  set  on  the  church  as  never  was,"  put  in 
the  woman.  "  He's  been  grave-digger  for  years  and 
years,  and  now,  being  stiff  with  rheumatics,  he  can't 
dig  any  more,  so  Rector,  he  lets  him  sweep  the  yard 
and  keep  the  place  tidy." 

Jim  followed  Grandfather's  feeble  footsteps  through 
the  gate  hard  by,  and  up  the  path.  The  little  church- 
yard under  its  spreading  elms  was  very  tidy  and  well 
cared  for,  and  he  stopped  once  or  twice  to  read  the 
inscriptions  on  some  of  the  older  headstones. 

"  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Mister  Joshua  Roberts," 
so  ran  one  of  these,  as  if  the  deceased  had  been  anxious 
that  his  name  should  be  announced  with  all  due  for- 
mality at  the  Resurrection. 

"  See  that  there  ?  "  said  the  old  man,  with  a  chuckle. 


EUKEKA  335 

"  That's  queer,  that  is !  Folks  often  laugh  at  that. 
I  mind  the  storm  well ! "  On  a  small  moss-grown 
stone  were  the  words :  — 

"  Here  lies  Eiched  Gotobed 
Under  the  sod. 
Killed  by  a  thunderbolt, 
Praise  be  to  God !  '\ 

"  Do  you  often  have  thunderbolts  in  these  parts  ?  " 
asked  Jim. 

"  Well,  I  never  mind  but  that  one.  That  were  a 
storm,  that  were.  Farmer  Terry,  he  had  twelve 
cows  killed  down  in  the  pasture  yonder.  See !  where 
them  two  old  trees  stands,  over  there !  There  was 
a  clump  of  seven  or  eight  oaks  there  in  them  days, 
and  the  beasts  they  was  all  huddled  under  'em. 
Dick  Gotobed,  he  were  a-walking  across  pasture  for 
to  drive  'em  in,  and  the  thunderbolt  come,  such  a 
crack  as  never  you  heard,  seemed  as  if  the  world 
was  afire.  I  was  standin'  under  the  barn,  a-watchin' 
of  Dick,  and  when  I  looked  again,  there  was  the 
trees  down  right  on  top  of  the  cows,  and  Dick  lyin' 
on  his  face  just  where  you  see  that  white  stone. 
Then  down  comes  the  rain,  seemed  as  if  you  couldn't 
hardly  call  it  rain,  such  as  I  never  did  see,  nor  never 
will,  and  when  we  picked  'im  up,  one  side  of  'im 
were  black !  black  as  a  coal  that  were  !  Aye !  that 
were  a  thunderbolt,  sure  enough.  I  don't  ever  want 
to  see  another !  Seems  as  if  we  was  goin'  for  to 


336  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

get  some  rain  now,"  he  added,  as  he  hobbled  towards 
the  church.  "  Folks  say  that  seems  queer,  putting 
i  Praise  be  to  God/  but  that  were  his  wife.  '  Praise 
God  Jane,'  folks  called  her  after  that ;  not  but  what 
he  were  a  good  husband,  Dick  were,  but  she  always 
would  have  it  as  how,  whatever  come,  Almighty 
must  be  praised.  John  Collins,  what  were  carpenter 
then,  he  wrote  the  verse,  and  Jane  said,  '  Put  what 
you  like,  John,  but  Praise  God,  I  will  'ave  on  'is  tomb- 
stone.' Come  and  see  the  monnyments,  sir;  fine 
monnyments  they  be." 

He  led  Jim  to  the  chancel,  where  two  recumbent 
stone  figures  reclined  in  a  most  uncomfortable  attitude 
on  a  great  square  tomb,  and  a  tablet  set  forth  in  terms 
of  highest  eulogy  the  virtues  of  Peter  Saunders,  Knight, 
and  Dame  Elizabeth,  his  wife.  They  were  of  no  par- 
ticular interest,  either  artistic  or  historical ;  but  the 
old  man  was  so  evidently  proud  of  them,  that  Jim  felt 
it  his  duty  to  admire  and  praise,  and  then,  in  obedi- 
ence to  his  guide,  walked  to  the  other  side,  where  a 
large  tablet  of  black  and  white  marble  was  set  in  the 
wall. 

The  carving  represented  a  ship  in  full  sail,  stranded 
on  large  and  very  jagged  blocks  of  ice  ;  icicles  hung 
from  the  rigging,  and  in  the  foreground  a  most  real- 
istic polar  bear  stood  with  raised  head  and  wide-open 
jaws.  A  thrill  of  interest  ran  through  Jim,  and  he 
stepped  quickly  closer  to  read  the  inscription  :  - 


EUREKA  337 

"  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Gilbert  Baine,  who,  with  other 
intrepid  souls  on  board  the  Seagull,  perished  in  the  Arctic 
Regions  during  the  Winter  of  1880-1881,  A.D." 

Underneath  was  the  verse :  — 

"  'Mid  pastures  green  He'll  lead  His  flock, 

Where  living  streams  appear. 
And  God  the  Lord  from  every  eye 
Shall  wipe  away  the  tear." 

A  black  mist  seemed  to  roll  heavily  before  Jim's 
eyes  for  a  moment ;  the  letters  danced  like  points  of 
fire.  1880-1881 ;  was  it  possible  that  here,  in  this 
out  of  the  way  place,  he  had  stumbled  on  the  clue 
which  they  had  sought  so  diligently  and  so  long? 
Then  he  pulled  himself  together.  No  !  he  told  him- 
self fiercely,  there  was  probably  nothing  in  it  —  just 
another  will-o'-the-wisp  beckoning  to  another  barren 
chase !  But  it  takes  very  little  to  fan  the  embers  of  hope 
into  a  flame,  and  he  was  breathing  rather  quickly  as 
he  turned  to  the  old  man  and  asked  :  — 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  Gilbert  Baine  ?  " 
"  Oh,  aye,  I  knowed  'im.  He  were  nephew  to  old 
Mrs.  Hamilton  what  lived  up  at  the  Grange.  Widow 
lady,  she  were.  She  hadn't  no  children,  and  set  great 
store  by  Muster  Gilbert,  she  did.  Lor' !  how  she  did 
take  on  when  'e  went  away;  but  then,  as  I  said  to  'er 
—  young  folks'll  go  same  as  young  colts'll  kick  !  But 
'e  never  come  back,  and  she  put  up  the  stone,  and 
then,  soon  after,  she  died,  and  the  place  was  sold  to 


338  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

Mr.  Parker,  what  lives  there  now ;  come  from  London 
way,  'e  did." 

"  Do  people  ever  come  to  see  the  stone,  or  to  make 
enquiries  about  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  to  be  sure,  that  do  seem  queer  you 
should  ask  that,  sir;  for  last  summer  there  was  a 
gentleman  corned  'ere,  stayin'  in  the  neighbourhood,  'e 
said  'e  was.  'E  corned  and  asked  to  see  the  monnv- 

«/ 

ments.  Sort  of  interested,  he  was,  like,  and  when  he 
corned  to  this  un,  he  just  stood  quite  still  for  a  long 
time,  and  then  'e  said  as  how  'e  thought  pastures 
green  and  livin'  streams  would  be  just  what  them 
poor  fellows  would  be  most  glad  to  find.  I  said  as 
'ow  it  might  have  been  cold  there  "  —  he  pointed  with 
his  thumb  at  the  frozen  scene.  "'It  was,'  he  said  kind 
of  quiet  like ;  '  I  know  it  was  cold,  for  I  was  there.' ' 
"  He  was  there  ?  "  faltered  Jim. 
"  Oh,  aye,  'e  was  there  !  'Im  and  me  we  'ad  quite 
a  long  talk  about  it.  Lame  gentleman,  he  were,  and 
quiet  like." 

"  How  long  ago  was  it  —  did  you  say  ?  " 
"  I  remember  they  was  carting  hay  down  in  the 
long  meadow,"  replied  the  old  man,  pensively ;  "  but 
I  couldn't  rightly  say  just  what  day  that  might  a 
been." 

"  But  you  are  sure  it  was  last  summer  ?  " 
"  Yes ;  that  were  last  summer,  sure  enough." 
"  Did  you  find  out  the  gentleman's  name  ?  " 


EUREKA  339 

"  I  asked  'im  what  'is  name  might  be,  sir ;  'im  and 
me  we  'ad  got  kind  of  friendly  like ;  and  'e  give  me  a 
piece  of  paper  before  'e  went  away.  Maybe  you'd 
like  to  see  it  ?  'E  did  say  as  how  'e'd  be  comin'  back 
one  of  these  days.  Seemed  to  take  a  sort  of  interest 
in  the  monnyments,  'e  did." 

Jim's  replies  to  the  old  sexton's  rambling  talk  were 
quite  incoherent  as  they  walked  back  to  the  forge,  for 
he  was  hardly  conscious  of  what  he  was  saying.  The 
old  man  entered  the  cottage,  and  from  an  old  willow- 
patterned  jug  on  the  high  mantel  shelf  produced  a 
visiting  card,  which  he  handed  to  Jim. 

It  read :  — 

Commander  John  Seymour,  K.N.  (retired) 
Oak  Cottage,  Marazion. 

He  copied  the  name  carefully  on  to  a  slip  of  paper, 
and,  mounting  his  bicycle,  now  repaired  by  the  skilful 
hands  of  young  Tom,  rode  away  down  the  lane.  It 
was  raining  now,  but  Jim  little  recked  of  the 
weather,  as  he  pedalled  furiously  along,  his  head 
bent,  and  his  hands  gripping  the  handle-bars  with  a 
grasp  of  iron.  His  mind  was  a  tumult  of  conflicting 
emotions,  hope  and  fear  alternately  striving  for  the 
mastery.  The  last  months  had  been  so  utterly  de- 
void of  hope  !  Here  was  at  least  a  change  from  the 
deadly  inaction.  An  expedition  of  which  they  had 
never  even  heard !  —  that  meant  at  least  a  clue  to  be 
followed — and  there  was  always  a  chance — a  chance  I 


340  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

He  stopped  at  the  post-office  at  Barnet,  and  sent 
the  following  telegram  to  Captain  Maitland. 

Another  chance.     Come  at  once,  do  not  tell  Mildred. 

JIM. 

It  was  a  recognized  thing  that  all  clues  were  to  be 
followed  up  together,  and  the  next  afternoon  found 
them  both  seated  in  a  train  whirling  speedily  along 
on  their  long  journey  to  Penzance. 

On  the  seat  beside  Captain  Maitland  was  a  square 
parcel  wrapped  in  brown  paper.  It  contained  the 
old  writing-desk,  which  always  accompanied  them  on 
their  expeditions,  although  up  to  the  present  matters 
had  never  reached  the  point  where  the  recognition  of 
it  might  have  set  a  seal  upon  certainty. 

"Don't  build  too  much  on  this,  my  boy,"  the 
Captain  urged  kindly. 

"  It's  all  very  well  to  say  '  don't,' "  replied  Jim, 
quickly.  "  I  do  try  not  to.  That  is  why  I  wired  to 
you  not  to  tell  Mildred.  I  try  not  to  think  about  it 
at  all ;  but,  old  man,  it  is  a  chance !  You  can't  say  it 
isn't  a  chance !  " 

"  Well,  well,  maybe  !  But  there  are  a  good  many 
hours  to  be  got  through  before  we  know  the  worst  — " 

"  Or  the  best,"  interrupted  Jim. 

"  Or  the  best  —  so  go  steady,  my  lad.  Here,  read 
this  leading  article ;  it's  stiff  enough  to  steady  any- 
one !  Read  it  straight  through,  every  word !  I 
refuse  to  discuss  personal  matters  with  you  any  more. 


EUREKA  341 

I'm  going  to  sleep  —  Always  sleep  in  the  train  — 
that's  my  motto  !  " 

He  leaned  back  in  his  corner  and  shut  his  eyes,  but 
sleep  refused  to  come  at  his  bidding,  and  presently 
he  opened  them  again,  and  glanced  at  the  opposite 
corner  of  the  carriage.  Jim  was  leaning  forward 
smoking  furiously;  he  held  the  folded  paper  before 
him,  but  it  was  very  evident  that  he  was  not  reading. 
Every  now  and  then  he  would  raise  his  hand,  and 
brush  the  hair  back  from  his  forehead  with  an  im- 
patient gesture.  The  Captain  sighed.  It  was  ridicu- 
lous for  a  man  of  Jim's  age  to  develop  nerves,  but 
there  was  no  doubt  that  he  had  got  them,  and  got 
them  badly.  "  It  can't  go  on,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"If  this  fails," — and  with  the  caution  of  old  age, 
he  dared  not  entertain  much  hope,  —  "  we'll  have  to 
tackle  that  old  lady,  or  dispense  with  her  permission, 
and  get  them  married.  After  all,  it  is  a  great  fuss 
about  very  little  !  Lots  of  men  have  not  got  fathers, 
and  get  on  very  well  without  them !  The  boy  has 
taken  it  badly  —  but  once  get  them  married  —  then 
Mildred  can  do  the  rest.  They  can't  wait  another 
two  years."  Two  years !  An  eternity  to  the  young, 
but  such  a  short  time  to  the  old,  who  have  watched 
the  wheels  of  time  for  so  long,  and  know  so  well  the 
pace  at  which  they  travel ! 

They  arrived  at  Penzance  at  a  little  before  mid- 
night, and  went  straight  to  an  hotel.  The  Captain, 


342  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

wise  in  his  generation,  retired  straight  to  his  bed ; 
but  the  younger  man  spent  the  remaining  hours  rest- 
lessly pacing  up  and  down  the  sea  front,  under  the 
starlit  sky.  After  breakfast  his  impatience  became 
painful  to  witness.  In  vain  the  Captain  pointed  out 
that  it  was  impossible  to  descend  upon  a  total  stranger 
at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  eleven  was  surely  the 
earliest  hour  permissible  !  Finally  it  seemed  cruel  to 
restrain  him,  and  they  stepped  into  a  fly  to  drive  to 
the  quiet  village. 

There  was  a  delightful  feeling  of  spring  in  the  air, 
the  sea  was  calm  and  blue,  gentle  waves  just  lapping 
the  quiet  sands  with  never  a  hint  of  turmoil  or  fret. 
In  the  distance,  the  Mount  rose  clear  above  the  azure 
water,  the  sun  striking  golden  gleams  from  the  build- 
ings on  the  summit.  The  soft  hills  on  the  left  were 
girdled  with  faint  mist  which  was  rising  from  the 
marshy  low-lying  ground  where  the  young  osiers 
shone  redly  orange  in  the  sunlight.  The  grey  tower 
of  the  little  church  indicated  where  the  village 
nestles  among  the  sheltering  trees. 

The  carriage  stopped  at  a  gate  close  to  the  church, 
and,  passing  under  a  low  archway  of  yew,  the  two 
men  walked  up  a  short  flagged  path  to  the  door  of 
an  old-fashioned,  creeper-clad  house.  The  bell  was 
answered  by  an  elderly  woman  servant,  who  said  that 
Captain  Seymour  was  at  home ;  he  was  in  the  garden 
—  would  the  gentlemen  step  inside,  and  she  would 


EUREKA  343 

fetch  him.  They  entered  a  small  parlour  with  a  low 
ceiling  crossed  with  heavy  oak  beams ;  evidently  a 
bachelor  room,  for  a  pair  of  slippers  lay  before  the 
fire,  and  a  neat  row  of  pipes  was  arranged  on  a  little 
table  beside  an  ancient  and  comfortable  arm-chair. 
The  walls  were  covered  with  pictures,  nautical  in 
character,  nearly  all  of  ships  or  sea-scapes.  On  the 
mantelpiece  was  a  sketch  in  pencil  of  a  ship  impris- 
oned among  ice,  and  underneath  was  written,  "  Sea- 
gull, 1880."  Next  to  it  hung  another  drawing,  very 
similar  in  character,  marked  "  Alert,  1875."  A  large 
coloured  engraving  of  the  battle  of  the  Nile  occupied 
a  prominent  position  on  the  opposite  wall,  over  a  small 
bookcase  containing  many  volumes  on  exploration 
and  travel. 

Jim  wandered  round,  feverishly  picking  up  one 
trifle  after  another.  The  Captain  stood  upon  the 
hearth-rug,  carefully  examining  the  lining  of  his  hat, 
as  if  it  contained  some  new  and  enthralling  interest, 
while  a  clock  in  the  corner  ticked  slowly  and  aggres- 
sively, as  much  as  to  say,  "  Don't  be  impatient ;  I 
shall  certainly  not  hurry  myself  for  you!  "  A  few 
moments  passed  thus,  and  then  the  door  opened,  and 
a  man  came  in.  He  was  short  and  spare,  and  walked 
slowly  and  with  difficulty,  being  exceedingly  lame. 
He  bowed. 

"Good-morning,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the  card  in 
his  hand,  and  moving  forward  as  he  spoke. 


344  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"I  am  afraid  our  visit  must  seem  something  in 
the  nature  of  an  intrusion,"  said  Captain  Maitland. 
"  But  learning  by  chance  that  you  had  been  a  member 
of  an  expedition  to  the  Polar  regions  in  1880  or  1881, 
we  have  come  to  ask  if  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to 
give  us  some  information." 

"  Pray  be  seated,"  was  the  courteous  reply.  "  If 
you  will  question  me,  I  will  do  my  best  to  answer 
fully.  What  was  it  you  wished  to  know  ?  " 

Jim  walked  to  a  small  table  which  occupied  the 
centre  of  the  room,  and,  resting  his  hands  upon  it, 
leaned  forward,  and  said :  — 

"  I  am  searching  for  a  man  whose  name  I  do  not 
know  —  who  sailed  somewhere  about  1880  on  a  ship 
the  name  of  which  I  do  not  know  —  leaving  a  wife 
and  a  young  child  behind  him." 

Captain  Seymour,  who  chanced  to  be  standing  im- 
mediately opposite  to  Jim,  lifted  his  face  suddenly ; 
the  light  from  the  window  shone  full  on  them  both, 
and  Captain  Maitland  scanned  the  two  faces  earnestly 
for  a  few  seconds. 

"Well?" 

"  When  this  man — whose  name  I  do  not  know  — 
returned  to  England — if  he  did  return  —  he  found 
he  could  not  trace  either  his  wife  or  child — " 

Jim's  voice  was  not  quite  steady.  Labouring  as  he 
was  under  intense  excitement,  he  found  it  difficult  to 
state  his  case  clearly.  Had  any  onlooker  been  pres- 


EUREKA  845 

ent,  they  might  have  thought  Captain  Maitland's 
behaviour  curious,  for  after  that  one  long  look,  he 
retired  to  a  chair,  where  he  sat  down,  and  proceeded 
to  unpack  a  parcel  he  had  brought  with  him.  Pa- 
tiently untying  the  knots,  he  twisted  the  string  with 
care  and  neatness  into  a  small  hank,  which  he  care- 
fully placed  in  his  pocket,  and  from  the  brown  paper 
he  drew  the  desk,  and,  rising,  placed  it  in  the  centre 
of  the  table.  Then  he  quietly  resumed  his  seat.  The 
other  men  did  not  seem  to  notice  his  movements,  and 
Jim  continued :  — 

"  Do  you  know  —  have  you  heard  a  similar  story 
connected  with  any  one  who  sailed  with  you  ?  " 

"What  is  your  reason  for  asking?"  demanded 
Captain  Seymour,  slowly. 

"  Because  —  I  have  reason  to  believe  — that  —  he 
was  my  father  ! " 

The  elder  man  swayed  for  a  moment  where  he 
stood ;  then,  drawing  a  chair  close  to  the  table,  he  sat 
down,  and  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  For  some 
moments  silence  reigned  in  the  little  room,  broken 
only  by  the  ticking  of  the  clock.  At  last  Captain 
Seymour  spoke. 

"  I  have  heard  a  similar  story,"  he  said.  "  Please 
tell  me  the  details." 

"  On  December  12,  1880,"  —  Jim  spoke  more 
quickly  now,  his  heart  was  thumping  painfully, — 
"  two  people,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lucas,  were  staying  in  a 


S46  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

certain  hotel  in  London.  During  the  night  there 
was  a  fire  close  by  —  a  child  was  saved  —  a  child  of 
three  or  four  years  —  a  boy  — "  he  hesitated. 
"There — were  no  other  survivors.  They  adopted 
the  child,  and  brought  him  up  as  their  own.  He  only 
learnt  the  truth  a  few  months  ago.  I  —  am  the 
boy  —  !  and  I  am  —  looking  for  —  my  —  father." 

The  man  moved  slightly,  but  did  not  uncover  his 
face. 

"  Proofs  ?  "  he  said,  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice. 

"I  have  no  proofs — only  this  desk,  and  one  un- 
finished letter." 

Jim  opened  the  desk  ;  he  took  out  the  sheet  of  paper 
and  pushed  it  across  the  table.  Captain  Seymour's 
face  was  ashen  white,  but  no  whiter  than  Jim's, 
which  had  grown  haggard  and  strangely  old  in  the 
last  few  minutes.  With  trembling  hands  he  fumbled 
for  his  spectacles,  and  put  them  on ;  then  he  took  the 
letter  in  his  hand,  and  read  it  slowly  through.  Once 
—  twice  —  then  a  sharp  cry  broke  from  his  lips. 
"  Mary !  "  —  and  he  dropped  his  head  upon  his  folded 
arms. 

Jim  stood  as  if  carved  in  stone  ;  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  bowed  head  opposite  him.  The  leaden 
seconds  passed  —  the  clock  ticked  with  ponderous 
deliberation  —  somewhere  outside  a  dog  barked 
furiously. 

Then  the  man  rose  to  his  feet — he  glanced  round 


EUKEKA  S47 

him  as  if  uncertain  of  his  surroundings  —  then  his 
eyes  met  Jim's,  met  them,  and  held  them  for  one  long, 
pregnant  moment.  Suddenly  he  stretched  out  both 
his  hands. 

"  Mary's  boy — "  he  faltered.     "  My  son !  My  son!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

AN  OLD  STORY 

"  One  day  with  life  and  heart 
Is  more  than  time  enough  to  find  a  world." 

—  LOWELL. 

NEAELT  two  hours  later  Jim  walked  across  the 
lawn  at  the  back  of  the  cottage,  and  found  Captain 
Maitland  sitting  in  a  wicker  arm-chair,  smoking  his 
pipe  in  peaceful,  contemplative  fashion. 

"  Old  friend,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  the  Cap- 
tain's shoulder  with  an  impulsive,  boyish  gesture, 
"  Old  friend,  it's  all  right !  But  come  in  —  I  can't  do 
without  you  —  I  can't  try  to  thank  you  —  I  can't 
say  what  I  feel,  but  God  knows  what  I  should  have 
done  without  you  !  Come  into  the  house — there  is 
so  much  to  say  and  to  hear.  He  really  is  a  dear  old 
boy,  but  he's  naturally  awfully  bowled  over  by  the 
suddenness  of  it  all.  Who  wouldn't  be?  "Wait  a 
second  until  I  send  that  driver  chap  back  with  a 
couple  of  telegrams  ! " 

He  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  and  they  walked 
together  into  the  parlour.  Captain  Seymour  was  still 
sitting  by  the  table ;  his  face  was  very  pale,  and  bore 

348 


AN  OLD  STORY  349 

evident  signs  of  recent  emotion.  He  held  out  his 
hand  as  Captain  Maitland  entered. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said.  "  The  boy  has  told  me  some- 
thing of  your  part  in  the  story,  but  it  isn't  all  clear  to 
me  yet.  It  seems  so  extraordinary  !  A  return  from 
the  grave  after  so  many  years  !  "  .  .  . 

"  Won't  you  tell  us  something  of  your  side  of  it  ?  " 
suggested  Captain  Maitland.  "  How  was  it  that  you 
never  knew  —  ?  " 

"  I  will  try  and  begin  at  the  beginning.  I  first 
met  my  wife  when  I  was  stationed  at  Esquimalt,  in 
British  Columbia.  Her  name  was  Mary  Robertson, 
and  she  was  living  with  an  uncle  and  aunt.  Her 
uncle  was  an  Englishman  who  had  a  big  ranch  near 
Lytton,  but,  owing  to  failing  health,  he  was  living 
down  at  the  coast.  When  we  became  engaged  to  be 
married,  I  was  on  the  point  of  resigning  my  com- 
mission ;  I  was  deeply  interested  in  Arctic  exploration, 
always  had  been ;  and  it  was  my  fixed  intention  to 
join  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  preparing  an  expedition 
to  start  from  San  Francisco.  He  was  an  American 
whom  I  had  known  almost  from  boyhood,  and 
it  was  an  old  promise  that  I  should  go  with  him 
whenever  he  was  ready  to  go.  Mary  knew  this, 
and,  being  full  of  courage,  she  did  not  attempt  to 
dissuade  me.  We  were  married  in  1874,  November 
26,  it  was.  Our  boy  was  born  on  December  10, 
1876,  and  very  soon  after  that  the  old  uncle  was 


350  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse,  and  his  wife  died  soon 
after. 

"  During  these  years,  I  had  made  several  visits  to 
America,  and  our  preparations  were  almost  complete. 
After  the  death  of  the  old  people,  we  moved  to  San 
Francisco,  and  finally  I  sailed  with  the  Seagull 
expedition  in  July,  1879.  The  year  before,  this 
cottage  had  been  left  me  by  an  old  cousin,  who  was 
my  sole  relative ;  in  fact,  both  my  wife  and  I  were 
singularly  alone  in  the  world,  which  of  course  made 
matters  more  difficult  later.  It  was  arranged  that 
Mary  should  come  back  to  England,  and  live  here 
during  my  absence,  —  she  felt  it  was  my  home ;  I 
had  lived  here  as  a  boy. 

"  The  story  of  the  expedition  can  be  told  another 
time ;  it  was  a  wretched  tragedy !  We  got  into 
heavy  pack  ice,  and  were  held  fast  for  twenty-two 
long  months.  Poor  Fisher,  my  friend,  and  the  leader 
of  the  party,  died  there,  and  many  others ;  the  Sea- 
gull was  crushed  and  sunk  in  June,  1880.  We 
managed  to  drag  our  boats  over  the  ice,  and  those 
that  were  left  of  us  reached  Bennett's  Island  about 
a  month  or  six  weeks  later. 

"  September  of  the  same  year  found  us  at  the  New 
Siberian  Islands,  and  from  there  we  set  out  in  three 
boats  for  the  mouth  of  the  Lena.  We  met  rough 
weather,  our  boats  were  separated,  and  finally  only 
one,  with  three  men  alive,  reached  Irkutsk :  Cray- 


AN  OLD  STORY  351 

shaw,  the  second  officer,  one  of  the  crew  named 
Dawson,  and  myself.  Dawson  died  a  few  days  later, 
and  Crayshaw  only  lived  three  weeks.  I  had  got  a 
wound  on  my  leg  which  had  been  open  for  months, 
and  when  at  last  I  managed  to  get  hold  of  a  doctor, 
it  had  to  be  amputated,  and  it  was  a  long  job.  It 
was  six  months  before  I  was  able  to  move,  and  then  I 
fell  ill  just  as  I  was  starting  for  home,  and  was 
raging  with  fever  for  ever  so  long.  I  had  sent  re- 
peated letters  to  my  wife,  but  had  no  answer;  and 
my  anxiety  with  regard  to  her  increased  every  day, 
and  materially  retarded  my  recovery.  Then,  as  soon 
as  I  was  better,  came  a  rumour  that  some  of  the  crew 
of  our  other  boat  had  been  heard  of,  and  I  felt  bound 
to  wait  for  confirmation  of  the  report.  It  wasn't 
true. 

"At  last,  but  not  until  the  spring  of  1882,  I 
reached  England.  I  came  straight  down  here,  and 
found  only  the  two  old  servants  who  had  lived  with 
my  cousin.  They  had  never  heard  of  Mary  ! 

"  The  next  few  months  were  a  ghastly  nightmare  ! 
I  hurried  to  San  Francisco,  where  I  found  a  few  let- 
ters from  her,  the  latest  written  in  October,  1876, 
when  she  had  left  there.  Later  than  that  she  was  to 
write  to  a  place  up  north,  where  we  hoped  to  touch 
on  our  return  journey.  One  of  our  acquaintances 
had  received  a  letter  from  her,  posted  in  Liverpool, 
announcing  her  safe  arrival  in  England,  and  —  and 


352  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

after  that,  they  had  heard  nothing!  I  went  on  to 
Victoria,  and  there  an  old  friend  of  Mary's  had  also 
had  a  letter  from  Liverpool,  but  nothing  later." 

"  Did  you  ever  get  any  letters  from  the  place  up 
north  ?  "  asked  Jim. 

"  No,  nothing !  I  account  for  that  by  the  fact  that 
there  was  no  chance  of  our  being  there  for  many 
months,  and  probably  Mary  thought  it  would  hardly 
have  been  worth  while  posting  until  later." 

"This  unfinished  letter  mentions  a  budget,"  said 
Captain  Maitland ;  "  so  that  was  probably  it.  Did 
you  advertise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  advertised ;  but  I  don't  suppose  that  any 
one  but  Mary  would  have  understood ;  you  see  —  I 
was  so  sure  she  was  alive  —  for  years  I  couldn't  be- 
lieve that  she  was  dead.  Then  I  came  down  here, 
and  was  very  ill  again  from  time  to  time  —  ill  and 
despairing ! " 

"  How  was  it,"  asked  Captain  Maitland,  "  that 
this  expedition  does  not  seem  to  have  been  reported 
in  any  of  the  papers?  Nor  does  it  seem  to  have 
been  mentioned  in  the  reports  of  the  Geographical 
Society." 

"  Well,"  replied  Captain  Seymour,  "  I  think  I  can 
understand  that.  It  was  really  a  private  venture ; 
Fisher  was  a  rich  man,  and  practically  financed  it 
himself,  and  he  was  always  particular  that  the  re- 
porters should  not  get  hold  of  any  information  about 


OLD   STORY  353 

him  or  the  voyage.  You  know  what  the  American 
Press  is !  It  ended  in  his  having  quite  a  row  with 
the  newspaper  men.  I  know,  however,  that  they  did 
report  his  death  and  the  loss  of  the  Seagull,  and  they 
also  had  a  paragraph  about  my  return." 

"  Were  there  several  Englishmen  on  board  ?  "  en- 
quired Jim. 

"  Only  three.  Crayshaw,  Baine,  and  myself.  The 
others  were  American,  Canadian,  Norwegian  —  a 
mixed  crew.  Good  men,  though  !  They  deserved  a 
better  fate." 

"  I  can't  see  now,"  said  Jim,  presently,  "  why  you 
didn't  happen  to  see  any  of  the  advertisements.  I 
don't  mean  the  ones  in  1880,  of  course  —  but  we 
have  been  advertising  for  months  ! " 

"  I  seldom  see  the  London  daily  papers.  I  take  in 
the  weekly  '  Times,'  and  the  local  paper,  and  one  or 
two  magazines ;  have  done  so  for  years.  When  I 
first  came  home,  I  hunted  in  every  newspaper  I  could 
lay  my  hands  on,  but  after  awhile  I  gave  it  up  in 
despair.  For  years  I  haven't  looked  at  an  advertise- 
ment column." 

"I  can  understand  that,"  said  Captain  Maitland. 
"  I  never  read  them  myself  until  lately." 

"It  is  curious  that  you  should  have  traced  me  at 
last  through  that  memorial  to  poor  Baine." 

"I  only  saw  it  quite  by  chance,"  said  Jim.  "My 
bicycle  broke  down,  and  while  I  was  waiting  for  it 


354  TEEVOE  LOEDSHIP 

to  be  repaired,  the  old  sexton  begged  me  to  go  into 
the  church." 

"I  was  staying  with  an  old  shipmate  of  mine  close 
by,  last  summer.  One  afternoon  we  were  all  sitting 
at  tea,  and  the  conversation  turned  on  Arctic  voyages, 
and  some  one  asked  me  what  was  the  name  of  my  ves- 
sel. It  so  happened  that  the  daughter  of  the  rector 
of  North  Mead  was  there.  e The  Seagull,'  she  ex- 
claimed. ( Why,  that  was  the  name  of  Gilbert  Baine's 
ship.'  '  It  was,'  I  replied.  '  Did  you  know  him  ? '  And 
then  she  explained.  '  How  slight  a  chance  may  raise 
or  sink  a  soul.' ' 

Captain  Maitland  capped  the  quotation  —  "'Or 
that  power  which  erring  men  call  chance,'  "  he  said, 
quietly. 

"  Aye !  "  said  Captain  Seymour,  thoughtfully,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  no  one  spoke.  He  was  holding  the 
letter  in  his  hand,  and  sat  gazing  at  it.  Then  he 
roused  himself.  "This  desk  was  a  wedding  present  to 
my  mother.  Do  you  see  that  scratch?"  he  asked 
with  a  smile.  "  I  did  that  with  my  first  pen-knife." 
Then,  rising,  he  opened  a  cupboard,  and  took  from  it 
a  miniature.  "  This  was  your  mother,"  he  said, 
handing  it  to  Jim.  "  That  picture  was  with  me  all 
the  time  - 

A  young  face  smiled  up  at  Jim  from  the  ivory, 
gaily,  happily,  with  no  hint  of  tragedy  or  loss. 
His  mother,  and  a  stranger  !  And,  as  he  looked  at  it, 


AN   OLD   STORY  355 

he  thought  of  another  face,  older,  plainer,  it  was  true, 
but  one  whose  every  look  had  been  loving  and  devoted 
—  the  only  mother  he  had  ever  known ! 

"  You  have  your  mother's  eyes,"  said  his  father. 

"  But  your  face,"  said  Captain  Maitland,  quickly. 
"  The  likeness  between  you  is  extraordinary." 

"  When  will  you  come,  sir,"  asked  Jim,  "  to  see 
my  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lucas  ?  " 

"Whenever  you  will.  To-morrow,  if  you  like," 
was  the  reply. 

"  And  Mildred,"  continued  Jim.  "  I  have  tele- 
graphed. I  know  you  will  like  her  —  I  am  sure  you 
will." 

Captain  Seymour  stood  up. 

"  My  boy ! "  he  said  kindly,  laying  his  hand  on 
Jim's  shoulder.  "Chance  or  —  let  us  be  plain  and 
honest  in  our  gratitude  —  God  has  brought  you  to 
me.  You  have  lived  many  years  without  me ;  your 
life  lies  before  you ;  circumstances  of  which  I  have 
no  knowledge  have  laid  it  in  lines  of  which  I  know 
nothing.  Kind  souls  I  do  not  know  have  been  your 
parents  in  fact,  if  not  in  truth.  Any  affection  you 
can  give  me  in  the  future  I  will  take  with  thankful- 
ness, for  I  am  a  lonely  man,  and  need  it  sorely ;  but, 
understand  me,  I  make  no  claims !  Thinking  mat- 
ters over,  as  I  have  thought  them  over  continuously 
for  twenty  years,  I  have  come  to  see  that  I  did  your 
mother  and  you  a  grievous  wrong.  I  should  never 
have  left  her,  or  you." 


356  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

"  But  she  was  willing,"  Jim  said,  trying  to  speak  a 
comforting  word. 

"  Aye !  she  was  willing,  brave  soul !  but  that  did 
not  alter  the  wrong.  It  was  not  as  if  it  was  my 
duty  to  go  —  merely  pleasure  —  the  love  of  adven- 
ture—  a  purely  selfish  thing.  I  did  wrong.  God 
knows  I  have  paid  the  price  in  years  of  loneliness 
and  remorse.  But  now  that  I  have  found  my  son, 
to  whom  I  have  never  been  a  father  —  one  thing  at 
least  is  clear  to  me.  I  have  no  claims  —  no  right  to 
advise  or  direct.  I  will  not  interfere."  He  held  up 
his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  silence,  as  Jim  tried  to  in- 
terrupt. "  I  will  not  interfere,  I  promise  you,  or  be 
a  burden  in  any  way.  But  I  must  see  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Lucas,  —  at  once,  if  may  be,  —  if  only  to  make  known 
to  them  the  fact  that  you  must  still  be  theirs  —  for 
they  are  old,  and  need  you,  and  you  owe  them  much. 
And  I  must  see  your  Mildred  —  " 

"You  left  a  son,"  interposed  Captain  Maitland, 
kindly,  "but  now  you  have  found  not  only  a  son, 
but  a  daughter." 

Captain  Seymour  smiled. 

"  Let  us  go,  then,  at  once.    We  will  go  to-morrow." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  are  equal  to  the  journey, 
sir  ?  "  asked  Jim,  quickly,  for  indeed  his  newly  found 
father  looked  very  frail  and  ill. 

"  Quite  equal !  "  he  responded  stoutly.  "  Your 
coming  has  given  me  new  life.  A  lame  dog,  it  is 


AN  OLD   STOEY  357 

true,  but  a  live  one  for  all  that !  How  I  can  now 
thank  God  that  in  His  infinite  wisdom  He  did  not 
answer  my  prayers  !  For  years  I  have  prayed  to  go, 
and  now  —  I  only  pray  He  may  grant  me  a  few  more 
years  to  know  my  son ! " 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

AFTER  THE  WEDDING 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  unmapped  country  within  us  which  would 
have  to  be  taken  into  account  in  an  explanation  of  our  gusts  and  storms." 

—  GEOEGB  ELIOT. 

AND  so,  after  days  of  storm  and  stress,  the  course 
of  true  love  did  at  last  run  smooth ;  and  in  April, 
when  all  the  earth  had  donned  her  fairest,  freshest 
green,  when  the  daffodils  were  waving  in  the  sunlight, 
and  the  birds  were  singing  merrily,  Mildred  and  Jim 
were  married  in  the  little  church  at i  Trevor  Lordship.' 

Spring  smiled  on  them,  and  the  weather  was  such 
as  permitted  the  reporter  of  the  local  paper  to  com- 
mence his  description  of  the  wedding  with  the  cus- 
tomary line,  "  Happy  is  the  bride  the  sun  shines  on ! " 
The  want  of  originality  in  this  opening  phrase  was 
amply  atoned  for  by  a  particularly  flowery  paragraph 
further  on,  in  which  he  stated  that  "  the  bride  looked 
charming  in  a  gown  of  white  satin  duchesse,  richly 
adorned  with  Brussels  *  point  to  point ! '  His  fancy 
fairly  ran  riot  in  superfluous  verbosity  over  the 
guests,  the  bridesmaids,  and  the  wedding  presents,  and 
soared  to  a  striking  flight  in  the  closing  sentence, 
which  read,  "  The  happy  pair  left  amid  a  hurricane 
of  rice  and  a  storm  of  vociferous  cheers,  to  spend  the 

358 


AFTER  THE  WEDDING  359 

honeymoon  at  Marazion,  the  country  seat  of  the 
bridegroom's  family."  This  elegant  burst  of  rhetoric 
was  read  aloud  to  the  assembled  party  at  ( Trevor 
Lordship/  a  few  days  after  the  wedding,  and  caused 
much  amusement. 

Many  of  our  old  friends  were  seated  on  the  lawn, 
enjoying  a  foretaste  of  summer  in  the  brilliant  sun- 
shine which  flickered  through  the  young  green  of  the 
chestnut-tree  and  fell  upon  the  white  carpet  of  fallen 
blossoms  beneath  it.  The  old  house  stood  bathed  in 
the  golden  light,  which  lit  up  the  mellow  tones  of  the 
ancient  brickwork  and  stone,  and  fell  full  on  a  corner 
of  the  wall  where  the  peacock  sunned  himself  in  all 
his  arrogant  pride.  The  fountain  murmured  a  gentle 
accompaniment  to  the  chattering  of  the  rooks  in  the 
elm-trees,  who,  with  the  return  of  spring,  were  once 
more  noisily  occupied  with  the  cares  of  a  new  genera- 
tion. 

Miss  Price  was  seated  in  her  favourite  wicker 
chair.  The  mushroom  hat,  which  apparently  defied 
the  hand  of  time,  and  survived  all  changes  of  the 
seasons,  was  firmly  tied  under  her  chin,  and  her 
hands  were  clasped  round  the  handle  of  her  stick. 
Her  shrewd,  kindly  glance  rested  first  upon  one  and 
then  another,  as  the  ball  of  conversation  was  kept 
merrily  rolling;  but  it  always  returned  to  and  re- 
mained longer  with  Eleanor,  who  was  sitting  nearly 
opposite  to  her.  It  appeared  that  her  scrutiny  was 


360  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

not  altogether  satisfactory  to  her,  for  invariably,  as 
she  watched  her  friend,  a  little  frown  showed  itself 
on  her  forehead,  and  twice  she  murmured  testily, 
"  Chut !  Chut !  "  under  her  breath. 

"  Certainly,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  Eleanor  is 
thinner,  much  thinner.  Not  but  what  it  suits  her, 
it  really  does ;  but  why  should  she  be  thinner  ?  She 
looks  pale,  too ;  but  perhaps  that  is  because  she  is 
wearing  white.  Now !  why  should  she  be  pale  and 
thin  ?  "  Her  kind  heart  pondered  over  the  question, 
although  her  cogitations  were  unobservable.  "  Is  it 

O  O 

because  that  poor  man  is  dead,  I  wonder  ?  Surely  it 
can't  be  that !  No  !  it  must  be  because  poor  Sir 
Henry  seems  to  be  possessed  of  a  dumb  devil  so  far 
as  she  is  concerned ;  —  and  yet  —  he  watches  her  all 
the  time.  Look  at  him  now  !  His  eyes  never  leave 
her.  I  wonder !  I  must  find  out.  Oh,  dear !  How 
I  should  like  to  shake  that  man !  He  does  want  it 
so  badly!" 

Joan's  voice  roused  her  from  her  meditations. 

"I  did  like  being  a  bridesmaid,"  the  child  was 
saying.  "  But  I  felt  all  the  time  I  should  so  much 
rather  have  been  the  bride !  Oh !  I  should  like  to 
be  married  soon  !  " 

"  You  must  wait  a  little  while,"  said  Captain 
Maitland,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  must  wait  until  some  one  asks 
me,"  Joan  returned,  with  a  sigh.  "  But  I  do  hope  it 


AFTER  THE  WEDDING  361 

will  be  soon.  I  should  like  to  have  a  lot  of  presents, 
and  cut  the  cake !  " 

"  Wouldn't  a  birthday  do  as  well  ?"  asked  Sir  Henry. 

"  No,"  said  Joan,  decidedly.  "  Birthdays  are  much 
duller.  You  don't  have  orange  blossoms  or  brides- 
maids, or  nothing;  and  after  they  are  over,  you  go  on 
just  the  same  as  if  you  hadn't  had  one.  Now,  if  I 
was  married,  I  should  go  away  with  Jim  and  live  in 
a  teeny-weeny  house,  and  pour  out  the  tea,  and  have 
visiting  cards,  and  —  " 

"  Have  to  order  the  dinner,  and  darn  your  hus- 
band's socks  !  "  put  in  Minnie  Ross,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  my  husband  will  only  have  one  leg,"  said  Joan, 
decidedly.  "  I  can  knit,  and  I  can  turn  the  heel,  but  I 
can't  make  two  feet  the  same  size ;  so  I  must  marry  a 
man  with  only  one  leg." 

"  I  don't  think  a  one-legged  husband  would  be  al- 
together a  treasure,"  laughed  Minnie. 

"  I  daresay  not,"  Joan  replied,  calmly.  "  But  then, 
husbands  always  are  tiresome  ;  at  least,  so  Mrs  Dobbs 
says,  and  she  has  had  three,  so  she  ought  to  know. 
She  says  they're  like  clothes.  .  They  give  a  lot  of 
trouble,  but  you  have  to  have  them." 

Mrs.  Lucas,  who  had  been  perusing  a  pile  of  papers, 
suddenly  asked  :  — 

"  Now,  which  would  you  choose  ?  Plain  or 
coloured?" 

The  old   lady's  whole   time   and   attention   were 


362  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

occupied  with  lists  of  furniture  and  household  requi- 
sites for  the  plenishing  of  Jim's  new  home,  and  she  had 
been  entirely  oblivious  of  the  foregoing  conversation. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  ejaculated  Miss  Price,  in  surprise. 

Minnie's  husband  roused  himself  from  his  comfort- 
able position  at  his  pretty  wife's  feet. 

"Well,"  he  said  seriously,  "opinions  vary.  In 
some  climates  coloured  are  preferred,  black  and 
woolly ;  but  personally,  if  I  were  a  young  lady, 
I  should  choose,  not  necessarily  plain,  but  most 
decidedly  white ! " 

"  What  does  the  man  mean  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Lucas,  in 
mild  surprise.  "  I  was  talking  of  drawing-room  cur- 
tains!" 

"  Here  comes  Captain  Seymour,"  said  Sir  Henry, 
suddenly.  "  Now  Joan,  no  more  talk  about  one- 
legged  men,  whatever  you  do." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Joan,  loftily.  "  But  I  know 
he  wouldn't  mind,  because  I  asked  him  all  about  it ; 
a  bear  had  his  other  leg  for  dinner  ! " 

"Lady  Trevor,"  said  Captain  Seymour,  as  he 
limped  into  the  circle  under  the  tree,  "  I  don't  think 
I  have  ever  seen  a  more  beautiful  garden  than  you 
have  here,  or  more  magnificent  trees !  " 

"  It  is  lovely,  isn't  it  ?  And  this  part  of  the 
country  is  noted  for  its  elms,"  answered  Eleanor. 

"Do  you  live  here  all  the  year  round,  Lady 
Trevor?"  asked  Maud  King. 


AFTEB  THE   WEDDING  868 

She  was  a  friend  of  Mildred's,  who  had  acted  as 
one  of  her  bridesmaids. 

"  Yes,  all  the  year ;  and  it  is  always  beautiful." 

"  I  have  loved  my  visit  here,"  continued  the  girl. 
"  It  has  been  delicious,  but,  do  you  know  —  I  don't 
think  I  could  bear  to  live  in  the  country  all  the  year 
round ! " 

"  Why  not,  Miss  King?"  asked  Sir  Henry. 

"  Well  —  I  do  love  London.  You  are  right  in  the 
middle  of  everything." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  agreed  Miss  Price.  "  Skating  on  the 
surface,  with  a  strong  predilection  for  the  thinnest 
ice ! " 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  cried  the  girl.  "  I  don't  mean  that  a 
bit !  It  is  just  the  skating  on  the  surface  which  is  so 
horrid.  I  want  to  get  right  inside  !  The  country 
seems  such  a  backwater  of  life,  somehow." 

"  I  used  to  think  so,"  said  Minnie.  "  But  I  am  not 
sure  that  I  do  now." 

"  Some  of  us  prefer  the  backwater,"  said  Captain 
Seymour. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Miss  Price ;  "  some  of  us  do.  But 
life  in  the  country  isn't  necessarily  life  in  a  back- 
water. It  need  not  be." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Eleanor,  quickly.     "  But  it  often  is !  " 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Captain  Maitland,  joining 
in  the  discussion,  "that  people  differ.  So  much 
depends  on  whether  you  are  conscious  of  the  rapid 


364  TEEVOE  LOEDSHIP 

stream  beyond.  Everything  goes  by  comparisons, 
doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  One  may  live  for  years  and  know  nothing  of  the 
stream  beyond/'  replied  Eleanor,  thoughtfully. 

"  Some  of  us  have  known  it,"  put  in  Miss  Price ; 
"  and,  as  Captain  Seymour  says,  choose  the  backwater 
—  which,  after  all,  need  not  be  stagnant." 

"  But  others  know  nothing  of  it,"  repeated  Eleanor. 

"  Yes !  "  agreed  Miss  King,  eagerly.  "  That  is 
just  it !  I  am  not  thinking  of  people  who  have  known 
life,  but  of  those  who  live  without  knowing  it !  Per- 
sonally, I  would  rather  be  in  the  strongest  part  of  the 
stream." 

"  That  is  the  modern  spirit,"  Miss  Price  said  kindly, 
"  and  the  spirit  of  youth." 

"  That  may  be.  But  just  think,"  urged  the  girl, 
"  how  much  people  miss  by  never  knowing  the  heart 
of  things.  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  explain  what  I 
mean;  but  somehow  one  would  hate  just  drifting !  It 
may  be  easier ;  it  probably  is ;  but,"  she  added  seriously, 
"  I,  for  one,  would  rather  have  the  bruises  than  be 
right  out  of  the  battle  —  when  there  are  so  many  to 
fight  for.  To  do  something  worth  doing,  and  feel 
something  worth  feeling  —  that  is  the  main  thing. 
A  friend  of  mine  wrote  some  lines  about  it  the  other 
day,  which  are  just  what  I  feel.  She  named  them, 
1  The  Cry  of  the  Strenuous.'  " 

"  Will  you  repeat  them  ?  "  asked  Eleanor. 


AFTER  THE  WEDDING  365 

"'If  we  may  not  succeed,  and  attain  our  ambition, 
And  hear  sometime  critics  acclaim  and  applaud, 
We  would  rather  go  down  'mid  their  jeers  and  derision 
Than  in  silence.     Ignored  ! 

" '  If  we  may  not  know  Love  in  its  uttermost  splendour, 
To  ask  all  —  to  yield  all  —  to  find  our  soul's  mate, 
The  Love  that  nor  prices,  nor  grudges  surrender ! 
We  would  rather  know  Hate ! ! 

" '  If  we  may  not  know  Life,  the  Life  that's  worth  living, 
To  taste  of  her  fulness,  draw  breath  of  her  breath  ! 
To  steep  heart  and  soul  in  her  —  taking  and  giving! 
We  would  rather  know  Death ! ! 

" { If  we  may  not  be  there  where  the  quick  volleys  rattle, 
Take  part  in  the  strife,  be  it  triumph  or  rout, 
If  we  may  not  be  ranked  in  the  van  of  the  battle — 
Ah !  Dear  God  !  —  Put  us  out ! ! ' " 

"  Frankly  Pagan  !  "  commented  Captain  Seymour, 
after  a  pause. 

"Is  it  ?  "  queried  Eleanor.  "  I  am  not  sure  !  Of 
course  all  that  part  about '  death '  and  ( going  out '  is 
all  wrong.  No  one  can  throw  up  the  sponge  because 
they  can't  have  what  they  want  —  but  I  think  that  a 
great  deal  of  it  is  absolutely  true.  The  part  about 
what  we  crave  for  !  It  is  silence,  inaction,  inanition, 
which  are  unbearable !  One  must  go  for  the  very 
best,  and  —  when  once  one  realizes  what  it  is,  it  must 
be  that  or  nothing.  The  very  fulness  of  Life  and 
Love  —  I  am  sure  that  is  what  God  meant  us  to  have. 
1  The  life  that's  worth  living ' !  — '  the  taking  and 
giving ' !  —  that  is  perfectly  true  !  That  is  the  thing 


366  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

that  matters  !  Without  it  we  are  crippled,  and  drop 
out  —  wounded  —  without  ever  having  struck  a 
blow ! " 

Sir  Henry's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  wife.  Her 
face  was  flushed  and  earnest,  and  there  was  a  note  of 
passion  in  her  voice,  very  different  from  her  usual 
level  tone. 

"  That  is  not  affected  by  town  or  country,"  said 
Miss  Price,  rather  lightly,  rising  as  she  spoke.  She 
seemed  anxious  to  change  the  subject.  "  Come, 
Eleanor,  let  us  go  for  a  stroll.  My  old  bones  get 
stiff  with  sitting,  and  it  is  none  too  warm." 

Eleanor  rose  at  once.  She  had  quickly  regained 
her  composure,  and  replied  quietly: — 

"  Come  along !  Let  us  go  across  the  park  to  the 
beech  wood." 

They  walked  in  silence  for  some  moments,  and 
then  Miss  Price  said:  — 

"You  have  a  large  party  here,  Eleanor;  but  I  miss 
one  face." 

"  Ah !  Poor  Mr.  Bolding,"  replied  Eleanor,  quickly. 
"We  all  miss  him  very  much;  especially  Joan,  I 
think.  The  child  was  devoted  to  him." 

"  He  was  very  fond  of  you." 

"  I  know.  I  liked  him  so  much,  and  so  did  Henry. 
There  have  been  so  many  losses  lately  in  this  dread- 
ful war.  Yet  —  I  think  it  is  what  he  would  have 
wished  himself,  —  he  died  most  gallantly  in  action. 


AFTER  THE  WEDDING  367 

I  think  he  was  one  of  those  who  wanted  to  be  right 
in  the  van  of  the  battle.  But  we  all  miss  him 
terribly." 

Miss  Price  gave  an  audible  sigh.  It  might  have 
been  sympathy,  but  it  sounded  more  like  relief. 

"  You  will  miss  Mildred  too,  now  that  she  is  married. 
It  will  make  a  difference  in  your  life." 

"  It  will  make  a  great  difference  to  Joan !  But 
after  all  —  Mildred  will  be  happy." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  said  Miss  Price, 
abruptly. 

She  stopped  suddenly  as  she  spoke,  and  looked 
straight  at  Eleanor.  For  a  moment  Eleanor's  habit- 
ual reserve  failed  her,  or  perhaps  she  had  not  entirely 
regained  her  self-control. 

"  Do  ? "  she  repeated  almost  bitterly.  "  Do  ? 
Why,  nothing !  What  can  I  do,  except  go  on  ?  " 

Miss  Price  laid  a  hand  kindly  on  her  arm. 

"Eleanor,"  she  said  gently,  "do  not  allow  your- 
self to  get  bitter !  Bitterness  is  the  refuge  of  fools  ! 
It  never  did  anything  but  harm.  You  are  making 
a  great  mistake." 

"  I  am  not  making  a  mistake  —  now,"  said  Eleanor, 
more  quietly ;  "  I  am  reaping  the  harvest  of  a  great 
mistake." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!  "  retorted  Miss  Price.  "You  are 
making  a  mistake  now." 

"  I  have  done  everything,"  she  said  passionately. 


368  TREVOR   LORDSHIP 

"  But  it  is  no  good  !  However,  you  are  right.  It  is 
no  use  being  bitter.  I  must  just  learn  to  do  without." 

"  You  think  he  does  not  care  ?  "  asked  Miss  Price, 
very  kindly. 

Eleanor  hesitated. 

"  How  can  I  think  otherwise  ?  He  does  not  want 
any  more  — •  than  he  has — his  home — and  his  books." 

"  His  books  !  "  echoed  Miss  Price.  "  I  have  been 
here  a  week,  and  he  has  never  stayed  in  his  library 
for  half  an  hour  at  a  time !  " 

"  There  have  been  guests.  Don't  let  us  talk  about 
it  any  more,  dear  friend ;  and  don't  worry  your  kind 
heart  about  me.  I  must  just  go  on,  and  learn  to  be 
content.  I  am  going  away  to-morrow,  after  you  all 
leave.  I  am  going  to  take  Joan  to  the  sea  for  a  fort- 
night. We  are  going  to  Renwick.  I  am  sure  she 
wants  a  breath  of  sea  air;  she  is  growing  fast,  and  I 
haven't  been  very  happy  about  her  lately.  I  think 
she  felt  the  shock  of  the  accident  last  autumn  more 
than  we  thought  at  the  time,  and  just  now  late  hours 
and  excitement  have  not  done  her  any  good." 

"It  will  do  you  good,  too,"  returned  Miss  Price. 
"  I  should  like  to  see  you  with  a  little  more  colour. 
I  expect  you  have  been  over-tired  with  the  bustle  of 
the  wedding,  especially  after  the  strain  of  so  many 
months  of  uncertainty.  It  is  wonderful  to  think  how 
things  have  come  out  right  in  the  end.  It  is  very 
hard  to  have  patience,  but  they  do  come  right." 

Eleanor  made  no  reply. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

PLAIN  SPEAKING 

"  Truth  has  rough  flavours  if  we  bite  it  through." 

—  GEOHGE  ELIOT. 

SEVERAL  of  the  wedding  guests  left  early  the  next 
morning,  but  Miss  Price  was  not  among  them ;  she 
had,  so  she  told  Eleanor,  made  up  her  mind  to  go  no 
further  than  Peterborough  that  day,  as  she  had  a 
cousin  there  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  many  years, 
and  she  thought  she  would  go  to  an  hotel  for  the 
night,  and  pay  her  a  visit  on  the  following  day. 

"  So,  in  order  to  avoid  a  long  evening  in  a  strange 
place,  my  dear,  with  your  kind  permission,  I  will 
not  leave  here  until  the  six  o'clock  train." 

"By  all  means,"  replied  Eleanor.  "Only  —  I  am 
afraid  I  am  going  earlier.  I  am  so  sorry.  I  would 
put  off  going  until  to-morrow,  but  I  am  afraid  Joan 
would  be  so  disappointed." 

"  Don't  think  of  altering  your  plans  for  me !  "  said 
Miss  Price.  "  I  wouldn't  allow  it  for  a  moment.  Sir 
Henry  will  look  after  me,  I  am  sure,  if  he  will  be  at 
home,  and  at  leisure." 

"With  pleasure,"  answered  Sir  Henry.  "Would 
you  care  for  a  drive  this  afternoon  ?  " 

2«  869 


370  TKEVOR  LOEDSHIP 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I  will  just  sit 
happily  in  the  garden,  and  you  shall  tell  me  all  about 
your  new  book,  and  when  we  are  to  expect  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  has  not  progressed  lately.  I  must 
atone  for  past  idleness  now  that  the  wedding  is  over." 

"I  wish  you  were  coming  to  Renwick,  Uncle 
Henry,"  said  Joan.  "  Do  come  !  and  we  will  build 
sand  castles,  and  paddle,  and  have  great  fun." 

"  You  would  find  me  rather  a  dull  playfellow,"  he 
answered,  smiling.  "  Ah  !  here  is  Minnie,  all  ready 
to  start." 

Minnie  appeared,  looking  extremely  charming  in 
her  smart  travelling-suit. 

"  Wherever  is  Hugh  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  am  sure 
he  hasn't  had  his  medicine,  and  I  told  him  he  was  to 
take  it  before  he  started  !  He  really  is  too  tiresome  !  " 

Sir  Henry  smiled.  Minnie's  solicitude  about  her 
tall  husband  was  pretty  to  see. 

"  Hugh  is  really  much  stronger,  isn't  he  ?  His 
looks  certainly  do  credit  to  your  nursing." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  much  better ;  but  he  isn't  fit  yet, 
and  I  do  want  him  to  be  quite  strong.  Oh !  there 
you  are !  "  she  added,  as  Major  Ross's  stalwart  form 
appeared  in  the  doorway.  "  Come  along  this  minute ! 
Have  you  had  your  medicine?  That's  all  right! 
Where  have  you  been  ?  The  carriage  will  be  round 
directly ! " 

Minnie  stood  in  front  of  him,  and,  rising  on  tiptoe, 


PLAIN   SPEAKING  371 

rearranged  the  silk  scarf  which  was  already  folded 
neatly  round  his  neck,  and  gave  him  sundry  little 
pats;  at  which  he  laughed,  and  then  put  his  arm 
through  hers  with  a  gesture  of  affection  and  mutual 
understanding,  and  said, — 

"  All  serene,  eh !    What  a  fussy  little  woman  it  is !  " 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  be  in  England  ? " 
asked  Miss  Price. 

"  My  leave  is  up  next  month.  I  rejoin  the  regi- 
ment at  Gibraltar ;  and  Minnie  is  coming  too.  aren't 
you,  Min  ?  " 

"  I'm  coming,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  I  can't  trust 
you  alone  again;"  but  there  was  a  tone  in  her  voice 
which  belied  the  flippancy  of  her  words. 

"  Have  you  broken  it  to  our  mother  ? "  asked  Sir 
Henry. 

"  No,  not  yet.  But  I  shall  to-night.  Perhaps  she 
will  come  too." 

"  Perhaps  ! "  echoed  her  husband,  with  a  deliberate 
wink,  which  made  every  one  laugh  outright. 

"  Here's  the  carriage,"  said  Minnie.  "  Where  are 
Eleanor  and  Joan  ?  " 

But  at  this  moment  they  descended  the  staircase. 
Joan  was  clasping  a  very  highly  coloured  tin  bucket, 
and  Alphonse  Daudet  trotted  behind,  proudly  carry- 
ing a  wooden  spade  in  his  mouth. 

"  Look  at  my  bucket ! "  cried  Joan,  excitedly. 
"  Look  at"  my  beautiful  bucket.  Dobbs  got  it  for 


372  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

me.  Oh,  Dobbs !  "  she  added,  as  she  espied  him  on 
the  box  seat,  "  thank  you  so  much !  It's  perfectly 
lovely!"  Dobbs  touched  his  hat  with  a  smile.  "Oh, 
Aunt  Eleanor!  Don't  you  wish  Dobbs  was  coming 
too  ?  I  am  sure  he  would  dig  beautifully." 

Eleanor  kissed  Miss  Price  warmly. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said.  "  Do  come  and  see  us  again 
soon.  I  have  hardly  seen  anything  of  you  this  time." 

"  I'll  come,"  returned  the  old  lady,  "  as  soon  as 
ever  you  want  me.  Good-bye,  my  dear."  Then  she 
whispered,  "Be  of  good  courage.  Remember  —  all 
will  come  right." 

Eleanor  took  her  seat  next  to  Minnie,  while  Sir 
Henry  captured  the  excited  Daudet,  who  was  caper- 
ing about  and  barking  wildly,  and  placed  him  on 
Joan's  lap.  Then  he  turned  to  his  wife. 

"  Have  you  everything  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Where  is 
Wilson  ?  " 

"Wilson  has  gone  on  with  the  luggage.  Yes,  I 
think  we  have  everything." 

"  Let  me  hear  of  your  safe  arrival.  Telegraph  me 
to-night."  He  laid  his  hand  on  hers.  "You  will 
telegraph,  won't  you  ?  " 

Her  reply  was  lost  in  the  tumult,  as  Joan  strove 
in  vain  to  quiet  her  dog,  and  only  encouraged  him  to 
further  and  yet  more  noisy  yapping.  Another  mo- 
ment, and  the  carriage  was  disappearing  down  the 
drive. 


PLAIN  SPEAKING  873 

"  What  a  noise ! "  laughed  Miss  Price,  as  they 
turned  into  the  house.  "  Now,  if  you  are  busy,  pray 
do  not  consider  me.  I  have  letters  to  write  this 
morning,  and  after  luncheon  I  shall  hope  for  your 
company." 

"  Certainly,"  Sir  Henry  replied  courteously.  "  Are 
you  sure  you  will  not  like  a  drive,  or  do  you  prefer 
the  garden  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  prefer  the  garden,"  said  the  old  lady,  decid- 
edly. "  The  garden,  and  intellectual  conversation." 

He  smiled  as  he  waited  for  her  to  pass  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs.  "Au  revoir,"  he  said;  and  then  he 
walked  away  to  the  library. 

Miss  Price  retired  to  her  room,  but  the  excuse  of 
letters  to  write  seemed  to  have  been  a  polite  fiction, 
as  she  at  once  took  a  chair,  and  sat  down  by  the  open 
window. 

"  A  hotel  in  Peterborough ! "  she  said  to  herself, 
with  a  sniff  of  disapproval,  as  she  looked  round  the 
well-appointed  bedroom.  "  Never  mind,  it  will  only 
be  for  one  night!  And  it  is  quite  true  I  have  a 
cousin  in  Peterborough,  but  —  as  to  paying  her  a 
visit  ?  I  doubt  it !  She  and  I  have  done  vastly  well 
without  each  other  for  years ;  we  always  quarrelled 
when  we  did  meet !  But  she  has  been  useful  for  once 
in  her  life,  and  I  am  grateful  to  her  for  the  first 
time.  She  gave  me  a  valid  excuse  for  a  change  in 
my  plans.  I  have  succeeded  so  far,  but  the  next  step 


374  TREVOK   LOEDSHIP 

is  far  more  difficult.  Probably  I  am  a  fool.  I  know 
that,  but  nevertheless  my  mind  is  made  up." 

It  was  Miss  Price's  fixed  intention  to  act  in  direct 
contradiction  to  the  principles  of  a  lifetime.  She 
was  going  to  interfere.  She  had  arrived  at  this  de- 
cision during  the  previous  night,  when  she  had  spent 
several  hours  pondering  over  the  situation.  She  had, 
up  to  the  present,  prided  herself  on  "  minding  her 
own  business  "  exclusively,  but  she  realized  that  this 
excellent  precept  may  be  carried  to  excess,  and  can 
be,  as  it  frequently  is,  just  an  excuse  which  we  offer 
to  ourselves  for  leaving  undone  something  which  is 
distasteful  to  us.  It  is  one  thing  to  pry  into  another's 
private  affairs,  but  it  is  another  to  give  a  word  of 
warning  to  a  fellow-creature  who  is  heading  straight 
for  a  precipice ;  and  this  was,  in  her  opinion,  exactly 
what  Sir  Henry  was  doing.  Therefore  she  had  de- 
cided to  delay  her  departure,  in  order  to  have  an  hour's 
undisturbed  conversation  with  him. 

"  After  luncheon  will  be  the  best  time.  There  is 
no  sense  to  be  got  out  of  a  hungry  man.  I  will  just 
sit  here  with  my  knitting  until  the  time  arrives." 

The  old  lady  was  never  one  to  beat  about  the 
bush ;  she  preferred  a  direct  attack,  and  never  wasted 
time.  Accordingly  when,  some  two  hours  later,  they 
left  the  dining-room,  and  Sir  Henry  had,  with  her 
permission,  lighted  a  cigar,  she  led  the  way  into  the 
garden,  and,  also,  into  action ! 


PLAIN  SPEAKING  875 

"  Sir  Henry,"  she  said,  without  any  preamble,  "  you 
may  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  that  I  delayed  my 
departure  on  purpose  to  have  a  talk  with  you.  And 
now,  by  your  leave,  we  will  go  straight  to  the  heart 
of  the  matter.  Do  you  know  what  is  wrong  with 
Eleanor?" 

"With  Eleanor?"  he  repeated,  completely  taken 
by  surprise. 

"  Yes,  with  Eleanor !  I  am,  as  you  know,  her 
oldest  friend,  and  I  am  also,  I  think,  old  enough  to 
claim  the  privilege  of  what  some  people  might  call 
interference.  A  certain  license  may  be  accorded  to 
me,  as  an  old  woman  who,  as  an  interested  spectator, 
sees  very  clearly  all  the  points  of  the  game ;  points 
which  are  often  entirely  overlooked  by  the  players 
themselves.  I  think  also  that  you  and  I  are  suffi- 
ciently good  friends  for  you  to  realize  that  I  am  not 
acting  without  a  purpose,  or  without  due  reflection. 
Eleanor  is  not  really  ill  —  but  she  is  very  unhappy." 

"  I  know  it,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Very  well,  then !  If  you  know  it,  why  do  you 
let  it  go  on  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world  for  her 
happiness ! " 

"  Come  and  sit  down  on  this  seat,  and  answer  me 
another  plain  question.  This  is  a  time  for  plain 
speaking.  Do  you  care  for  your  wife  ?  Really  care, 
I  mean  ?  Not  the  tepid,  half-hearted  affection  which 


376  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

was  all  you  offered  her  when  she  married  you.  —  If 
Eleanor  had  been  wise,  she  would  have  flung  it  back 
in  your  face ! — But  something  much  more  than  that  ?  " 

Sir  Henry  raised  his  head,  and  met  her  anxious 
look  of  scrutiny  fair  and  square. 

"  I  love  her  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,"  he  said 
slowly,  and  perfectly  distinctly. 

"  Very  well,  then.     What  is  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  The  fault  is  mine,  and  mine  alone.  Your  words 
are  hard,  but  they  are  absolutely  just.  The  half- 
hearted affection  of  two  years  ago,  and  since  then  — 
I  have  thought  —  I  have  feared  that  I  was  too  late. 
That  she  did  not  care  for  me  at  all." 

A  sudden  light  broke  upon  Miss  Price. 

"  You  mean  that  you  thought  she  cared  for  some 
one  else  ?  " 

Sir  Henry  nodded  assent. 

"  And  now  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  You  see  —  when  he  was  killed 
—  I  thought  Eleanor  would  feel  it  so  much  —  I  hardly 
liked  to  tell  her  —  " 

"And  she  didn't?" 

"  No,  she  didn't.     She  was  sorry  —  " 

"  Of  course  she  was  sorry  —  so  was  every  one.  And 
then—?" 

"  And  then  —  I  have  been  waiting  —  " 

"  Now,  one  more  question;  and  then  I  have  fin- 
ished. You  say  that  you  love  your  wife  earnestly  and 


PLAIN   SPEAKING  377 

truly.  Well  —  has  it  ever  struck  you  to  tell  her 
so?" 

Sir  Henry  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  faltered,  — 

"But-       She  must—" 

"Listen  to  me,"  said  the  old  lady,  earnestly. 
"  Eleanor  married  you  after  years  of  waiting ;  years 
.in  which  the  best  in  her  had  been  stunted  and  re- 
pressed by  a  life  of  ceaseless  monotony,  ceaseless 
unselfishness,  and  constant  thought  for  others.  Then 
you  came  along,  and  what  do  you  do  ?  You  bring 
her  here,  to  act  as  housekeeper,  —  which,  by  the  way, 
she  does  admirably,  —  you  think  that,  having  given 
her  a  comfortable  home,  you  have  done  all  that  is 
necessary !  You  have  gone  your  own  way  without 
any  thought  for  her.  "Wait  a  minute  !  "  she  added, 
as  he  tried  to  speak ;  "  bear  with  me  a  little  longer. 
Eleanor  was  asleep  —  drugged  in  heart  and  mind  to  a 
state  of  inanition  —  but  now  she  is  awake  !  Surely 
you  can  see  that  for  yourself.  You  heard  her  speak 
yesterday !  Of  course  she  is  unhappy  ! " 

Sir  Henry  rose  suddenly;  he  took  one  or  two 
rapid  turns  up  and  down  the  gravel  path.  Then  he 
stopped  in  front  of  Miss  Price,  who  was  waiting  for 
him  to  speak.  When  he  did  so,  the  words  came 
rapidly,  in  a  tone  very  unlike  his  usual  quiet  way  of 
speaking. 

"  Can  you  understand,"  he  said,  "  that  a  man  may 


378  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

come  to  despise  himself  so  utterly  for  blind  selfish- 
ness, that  when  his  eyes  are  opened  —  he  hesitates  ? 
You  see,  I  see  so  plainly  now,  that  I  deserve  nothing 
at  her  hands;  and  I  have  been  a  coward.  I  could  not 
face  the  thought  of  losing  what  I  now  have  —  the 
sight  of  her  face  —  her  sweet  companionship.  For 
I  know  that  —  if  she  cannot  forgive  me  —  if  she  does 
not  want  me  —  then — it  means  the  end  of  every- 
thing for  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Price,  rising  as  she  spoke,  "  if 
you  want  my  advice,  it  is  this.  Go  and  tell  her  what 
you  have  told  me,  and  see  what  she  says !  " 

"  I  will ! "  he  replied  quickly.     "  I  will  go  at  once ! " 

"  Excellent !  And  don't  bear  a  grudge  against  me 
for  my  plain  speaking,"  Miss  Price  said,  smiling. 

"I  shall  not  do  that,"  he  assured  her,  "in  any 
case.  I  hardly  dare  to  hope  —  but  I  shall  know 
soon." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  you  will  know  soon !  "  agreed  Miss  Price, 
with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye  which  was  more  akin  to 
tears  than  laughter. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

AT  LAST 

"I  think  we  had  the  chief  of  all  love's  joys 
Only  in  knowing  that  we  love  each  other." 

—  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

IT  was  two  days  later,  and  Sunday  evening. 
Eleanor  had  seen  little  Joan  safely  tucked  up  in  bed, 
and  then,  wrapping  a  lace  scarf  round  her  head  and 
shoulders,  she  had  strolled  out  on  to  the  now  deserted 
esplanade  of  the  little  seaside  town.  Here  she  had 
found  a  seat  in  a  sheltered  corner,  and  sat  commun- 
ing with  her  own  thoughts. 

The  sea  lay  before  her,  calm  and  serene ;  the  bril- 
liant moon  was  reflected  in  one  straight  path  of  glory 
to  her  feet;  the  myriad  stars  looked  down  from  the 
sapphire  vault  above;  and  as  she  gazed  up  at  them,  a 
recollection  of  a  verse  of  her  childhood  came  into  her 
mind,  "  Little  pin  pricks  into  Heaven,  just  to  let  the 
glory  through !  " 

All  was  very  calm  and  very  still.  Now  and  again 
the  sound  of  voices  came  from  the  houses  which  clus- 
tered on  the  cliff  just  above,  or  the  faint  echo  of  the 
organ  rolled  across  the  silence  from  the  old  church 
where  the  evening  service  was  just  coming  to  an  end, 

370 


380  TREVOR,  LORDSHIP 

to  die  away  again,  and  only  the  gentle  lapping  of  the 
wavelets  advancing  and  retreating  on  the  moonlit 
sand  remained,  an  echo  of  the  everlasting  music  of 
the  sea.  Monsieur  Alphonse  Daudet  had  exhausted 
himself  by  chasing  shadows  in  the  moonlight,  and 
now  lay  curled  up  in  a  soft,  warm  ball,  in  the  folds 
of  her  gown. 

Eleanor  had,  of  late,  endeavoured  to  avoid  all 
thought,  to  erect  a  barrier  round  her  inmost  heart, 
which  even  she  herself  should  not  pass,  to  resume  the 
attitude  of  placid  insensibility  which  had  served  her 
so  well  for  so  many  years,  before  it  had  been  rudely 
disturbed  by  the  advent  of  Love,  which  had  come  to 
her,  not  gently  or  kindly,  but  in  a  wave  of  emotion, 
and  stress  of  feeling,  leaving  her,  high  and  dry,  on  a 
barren  and  solitary  rock,  tortured  with  longing,  and 
racked  with  vain  regrets. 

To-night,  however,  this  barrier  no  longer  existed. 
The  conversation  under  the  chestnut-tree,  and  her 
subsequent  outburst  of  confidence  to  her  old  friend, 
had  crumbled  it  to  dust,  and  all  the  work  of  months, 
and  all  the  effort  of  will  which  had  gone  to  the  build- 
ing of  it,  were  rendered  void  and  useless.  To-night 
her  heart  lay  bare  and  bleeding,  without  veil  or  pro- 
tection, and  Eleanor  was  engaged  in  the  painful  task 
of  probing  and  dissecting,  with  a  view  to  ascertaining 
exactly  its  condition,  and  of  finding,  if  possible,  some 
method  of  healing.  For  wounds  are  unsightly,  and 


AT  LAST  381 

cannot  be  permitted  to  remain  untended  or  ignored, 
lest  the  whole  body  suffer,  and  the  very  mainspring  of 
life  be  broken. 

In  the  last  twenty-four  hours  she  had  come  to 
realize  that,  as  Miss  Price  had  said,  she  was  making 
a  mistake,  —  not  indeed  in  the  way  that  Miss  Price 
had  intended  the  words  to  be  understood,  —  but  a 
mistake,  nevertheless.  It  was  no  use  trying  to  erect 
futile  barriers,  and  trying  to  ignore  facts  as  they 
existed.  It  was  merely  a  position  of  moral  cow- 
ardice. Life  had  got  to  be  lived,  and  faced,  and 
made  the  very  best  of,  and  it  was  time  that  she 
shook  herself  free  from  the  past,  and  set  herself 
bravely  to  pick  up  the  pieces  of  her  dream,  lest  they 
cumber  her  feet,  and  start  out  again  along  the  ap- 
pointed road.  If  it  was  to  be  lonely,  well,  that  could 
not  be  helped.  Repining  was  useless  and  unprofit- 
able. And  so  she  began  to  systematically  review  the 
influences  and  changes  which  had  led  her  to  where 
she  now  stood,  and  in  the  relief  of  at  last  letting  her 
thoughts  have  full  and  unfettered  freedom  she  laid 
her  soul  open  to  the  calming  influence  of  the  moon- 
light and  the  soothing  power  of  the  night. 

She  thought  first  of  her  brief  courtship  in  far-off, 
half  forgotten  days,  of  Hal's  departure,  of  the  busy, 
monotonous  life  with  her  parents  in  her  girlhood's 
home,  and  so  on,  step  by  step,  to  Henry's  return 
from  abroad.  Ah !  it  was  then  that  she  had  made 


382  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

the  first  false  step !  But  even  as  she  thought  of  it, 
she  knew  that  she  did  not  regret  it.  She  had  mar- 
ried without  love  —  she  had  wronged  him,  albeit  un- 
wittingly and  in  ignorance;  but,  suppose  they  had 
parted  —  she  told  herself  she  would  never  have  known 
the  divine  discontent  of  awakening  love.  No !  bet- 
ter, far  better,  to  have  known  its  dawn,  even  if  never 
for  her  should  its  full  splendour  be  revealed. 

And  then  she  thought  of  her  friends.  Of  Con- 
stance—  who  had  known,  and  paid  the  price  of 
knowledge.  Of  Roger  Bolding,  lying  in  a  lonely 
grave  under  the  far-off  African  sun.  Only  yesterday 
the  post  had  brought  her  a  letter  from  his  servant, 
enclosing  an  envelope  addressed  to  her  in  the  bold 
handwriting  with  which  she  was  familiar.  The  man 
stated  that  his  master  had  desired  him  to  post  it  in 
event  of  his  death.  It  had  been  on  him  when  he  died, 
shot  through  the  heart  while  seeking  shelter  for  him- 
self and  a  wounded  comrade  whom  he  carried  in  his 
arms.  He  had  been  buried  where  he  fell.  Inside 
the  envelope  was  the  half  sheet  of  paper  on  which 
Eleanor  had  written  the  verse  from  Browning  on  that 
evening  months  ago,  when  their  friendship  was  just 
beginning.  That  was  all.  No  explanation,  no  com- 
ment. A  message  of  encouragement  from  the  grave. 
Eleanor  had  shed  tears  when  first  she  saw  it,  but  she 
could  not  weep  for  him  now.  Truly  he  had  been 
one  "  who  never  turned  his  back,  but  marched  breast 


AT  LAST  383 

forward  "  —  and  he  had  given  her  his  very  best.  As 
he  himself  had  said,  "  A  man's  honest  love  never  hurt 
a  woman  yet,"  and  now  he  was  gone — gone  where 
sorrow  and  sighing  shall  be  no  more.  She  could  not 
grieve  for  him. 

She  thought  of  old  Lavender  —  of  the  lessons  she 
had  taught  her,  —  Old  Lavender,  who,  in  spite  of 
poverty,  and  sorrow,  and  loss,  was  ever  hopeful,  ever 
undaunted.  She  could  almost  hear  the  familiar  voice 
chanting  the  favourite  verse : — 

"  Count  your  blessings,  count  them  one  by  one  ; 
Count  your  blessings,  see  what  God  hath  done." 

Old  Lavender,  with  the  grim  spectres  of  old  age  and 
want  staring  her  in  the  face,  shouldering  the  burden  of 
two  tiny,  helpless  babes,  little  blossoms  from  her  tree 
of  love;  without  a  doubt,  without  a  fear,  trusting  se- 
renely in  the  Power  which  worketh  all  things  together 
for  good,  to  those  that  love  Him. 

Of  Minnie,  gay,  light-hearted  Minnie,  who  had  learned 
her  lesson,  and  was  now  secure  and  happy  in  her  hus- 
band's love  and  trust. 

Of  Captain  Maitland,  who  had  been  such  a  tower 
of  strength  to  some  of  them  in  days  of  uncertainty 
and  darkness. 

Of  Mildred  and  Jim,  safe  in  the  haven  of  their  mu- 
tual affection;  and  of  little  Joan,  the  child  to  whom 
she  had  beome  so  devotedly  attached,  who  .was  almost 


384  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

like  her  own,  —  she  drew  her  breath  with  a  sob,  — • 
almost,  not  quite ! 

And  lastly,  and  chiefly,  she  thought  of  her  husband, 
and  her  Ijome,  his  unfailing  courtesy,  his  undoubted 
power  of  intellect,  and  his  absorption  in  his  work. 
It  was  true,  she  reflected,  that  latterly  he  had  spent 
very  little  time  in  his  library.  Was  it  possible  that 
his  books  and  his  literary  labours  were  losing  their 
interest  for  him  ?  Surely  that  could  never  be.  No ; 
no  doubt,  in  his  kindness,  he  had  wished  to  join  in 
the  general  rejoicing,  and  assist  in  the  preparations 
which  had  preceded  the  wedding.  Now,  no  doubt, 
he  was  thoroughly  enjoying  a  period  of  undisturbed 
quiet  to  pursue  his  own  occupations  with  renewed 
vigour. 

She  pictured  him  seated  at  his  table,  in  the  light 
of  the  shaded  lamp.  She  had  placed  a  vase  of  flowers 
there  only  yesterday  morning  —  could  it  have  been 
only  yesterday  ?  By  to-morrow  they  would  have 
faded,  and  she  would  not  be  there  to  replace  them ;  and 
although  she  had  anticipated  with  pleasure  spending 
a  few  weeks  here  with  Joan,  she  felt  now  that  she 
only  wanted  to  get  home  again.  After  all,  what  had 
she  to  complain  of  ?  She  had  more — far  more — than 
most  women  :  a  beautiful  home,  no  sordid  cares  such 
as  burden  many  lives,  and  a  husband  who  treated 
her  with  perfect  —  if  distant  —  kindness.  She  had 
said  to  Miss  Price  that  there  was  nothing  for  her  to 


AT  LAST  385 

do  but  to  go  on,  and  already  she  found  herself  looking 
forward  to  ( going  on '  in  a  very  different  spirit.  She 
had  been  unutterably  foolish,  she  told  herself,  and  in 
striving  for  happiness  beyond  her  reach  had  failed  to 
grasp  the  many  joys  which  surrounded  her  on  every 
side.  She  would  begin  again,  quite  afresh  —  and 
spend  no  more  time  in  crying  for  the  moon. 

But  even  as  she  thus  bravely  resolved,  the  thought 
of  the  afternoon  when  they  had  driven  together 
through  the  tumult  and  the  storm,  of  the  evening 
which  had  followed,  —  of  the  emotions  which  she  had 
felt, —  overwhelmed  her  like  a  wave.  Again  she  felt 
the  cutting  force  of  the  wind  against  her  face,  the 
strength  of  the  arm  which  had  encircled  her  for  one 
brief,  ecstatic  moment,  the  word  half  uttered  rang 
again  in  her  ears,  —  and  then  the  utter  loneliness  and 
desolation  of  the  hours  which  had  followed.  Of  what 
use  was  her  newly  found  courage  now  ?  Of  what  use 
her  newly  formed  resolutions  ?  They  disappeared  like 
morning  mist  before  the  sun,  at  the  mere  recollection 
of  her  longing  and  her  desire.  She  sank  back  in  her 
seat,  and,  half  crouching  in  the  angle  of  the  wall, 
pressed  her  hands  to  her  face  to  stay  the  tears  which 
rose  to  her  eyes. 

At  this  moment  Monsieur  Daudet,  who  had  been 
to  all  appearances  wrapped  in  dreamless  slumber,  sat 
up,  and  gave  a  shrill  and  joyful  bark,  and  in  another 
moment  he  had  flung  himself  like  a  wild  and  woolly 

2c 


386  TKEVOR  LORDSHIP 

whirlwind  upon  a  man  who  was  advancing  out  of  the 
shadows.  Eleanor  raised  herself,  but  before  she  had 
time  to  collect  her  thoughts,  and  bring  them  back  to 
the  present,  a  hand  was  laid  on  her  shoulder,  and  a 
f  amiliar  voice  said,  — 

"Eleanor!" 

She  passed  her  hand  across  her  eyes  as  if  to  brush 
away  a  dream. 

"  Henry ! "  she  said  doubtfully.  Then,  coming  to 
full  recollection  of  herself  and  her  circumstances, 
"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  " 

Sir  Henry  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said  soothingly.  "  I  am  not  ill. 
Every  one,  so  far  as  I  know,  is  perfectly  well.  Do 
not  distress  yourself.  I  came  to  see  you." 

"  To  see  me  ?  "  faltered  Eleanor. 

"  Yes !  to  see  you,  and  to  ask  you  of  your  kindness 
to  listen  to  something  I  have  to  tell  you." 

His  voice  was  quiet,  almost  cold,  with  the  feeling 
he  was  sternly  repressing,  but  Eleanor  knew  nothing 
of  this,  and  her  heart  sank  at  his  tone.  Had  he  come 
to  tell  her  he  was  going  away  ? 

"  You  are  not  going  away  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  gasp, 
regretting  the  words  as  soon  as  they  were  spoken. 

"  No  !  "  he  replied.  "  At  least  —  not  unless  you 
send  me  !  Listen !  I  have  come  to  make  a  confes- 
sion, and  to  ask  for  pardon.  When  we  married,  my 
love  for  you  was  —  not  dead,  but  — "  he  hesitated 


AT  LAST  387 

for  a  choice  of  words,  —  "  but  worthless  —  although  I 
did  not  know  it  at  the  time.  I  was  entirely  taken 
up  with  my  own  thoughts  —  my  own  aspirations.  I 
allowed  myself  to  drift  on  the  stream  of  circum- 
stances in  crass  and  revolting  selfishness.  But  now 

—  I  have  come  for  pardon !     I  have  come  to  tell  you 
that  I  love  you  deeply,  truly ; "  he  was  holding  both 
her  hands  in  his,  and  he  leaned  forward  to  see  her  face, 
which  was  hidden  from  him.     "  Can  you  forgive  me, 

—  Eleanor  ?    I  am  yours !  yours  utterly  —  to  do  what 
you  will  with.     "Without  you,  life  is  nothing  to  me. 
With  you  —  it  might  be  —  Heaven !    Eleanor !    Shall 
we  start  afresh,  you  and  I?     Speak  to  me,  dearest. 
Forgive  me  !     Tell  me  —  have  you  any  love  for  me  ?  " 
He  dropped  her  hand,  and  flung  his  arm  round  her. 
"  I  want  you,"  he  said,  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  vibrant 
with  feeling.     "  Shall  I  tell  you  ?     When  we  married 

—  in  my  stupidity  and  selfishness — you  know  how 
it  was;  then — when  I  began  to   feel  something  of 
what  you  might  be  to  me  —  when  I  began  to  love 
you  —  I  would  not  take  anything  you  could  not  give 
me  of  your  own  free  will.     Then  —    Oh  !  Eleanor, 
forgive  me!  I  thought  —  you  cared  for  Bolding  — 
and  my  newly  found  joy  lay  in  ruins !    Now  I  think 
I  was  wrong.     Was  I  wrong,  dear  heart  ?  " 

Eleanor  nodded ;  she  could  not  speak ;  and  he  con- 
tinued :  — 

"  I  should  never  have  doubted  you  —  but  who  could 


388  TREVOR  LORDSHIP 

have  blamed  you  if  another  had  stolen  the  precious 
thing  I  was  too  engrossed  to  value,  then  ?  Now  !  if 
you  can  give  me  any  love  —  even  a  little,  dearest! 
you  shall  see  how  I  will  prize  it !  " 

"  Oh,  not  a  little !  "  she  said  brokenly.  "  Not  a 
little,  for  all  my  heart  is  yours  !  " 

He  drew  her  closer  and  closer  to  his  embrace. 

"Nell!"  he  murmured  passionately.  "My  dear, 
dear  wife ! " 

Eleanor  raised  her  face  to  his  —  and  their  lips  met. 
The  moments  passed  unheeded.  Who  shall  mark  the 
flight  of  Time,  when  two  hearts  reach  that  highest 
point  of  ecstasy  permitted  to  poor  mortals  here  below 
—  a  point  where  surely  earth  and  heaven  touch  for  a 
while,  and  radiance,  wholly  divine,  encircles  all. 

At  last  Monsieur  Daudet,  having  vainly  tried  to 
attract  their  attention  by  fidgeting  and  yawning, 
jumped  up,  to  intimate  that  the  cold  asphalt  was  but 
a  poor  substitute  for  a  warm  blanket,  and  he  wanted 
his  comfortable  basket. 

"  Come,  sweetheart !  "  said  Sir  Henry,  raising 
Eleanor  as  he  spoke.  "  It  is  getting  chilly  for  you. 
Tell  me  ! "  he  cried  suddenly,  "  will  you  come  away 
with  me  —  just  you  and  I  —  our  honeymoon,  Nell  ?" 

"  But  Joan  ?  "  she  queried,  smiling. 

"  We  will  telegraph  to  Minnie.  She  and  Hugh  can 
come  down ;  I  am  sure  the  sea  air  would  do  him 
good.  We  will  go  to-morrow !  just  you  and  I,  dear 


AT  LAST  389 

wife  !  Shall  it  be  so  ?  Will  you  come  ?  "  he  asked 
fondly. 

Eleanor  leaned  against  his  supporting  arm. 

"To  the  ends  of  the  earth,"  she  whispered.  "  So 
that  we  are  together!  " 

"  Always  together !  God  grant  it !  Always  to- 
gether ! "  he  answered  tenderly.  "  My  dear,  dear 
love ! " 

And  so  they  passed  home;  for  where  two  loving 
hearts  are  united,  there  is  home. 


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The  Celebrity    An  Episode 

"  No  such  piece  of  inimitable  comedy  in  a  literary  way  has  appeared  for 
years.  ...  It  is  the  purest,  keenest  fun."  —  Chicago  Inter-  Ocean. 

Richard  Carvel  Illustrated 

"  In  breadth,  massing  of  dramatic  effect,  depth  of  feeling,  and  rare  whole- 
someness  of  spirit,  it  has  seldom,  if  ever,  been  surpassed  by  an  American 
romance."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

The  Crossing  Illustrated 

"A  thoroughly  interesting  book,  packed  with  exciting  adventure  and 
sentimental  incident,  yet  faithful  to  historical  fact  both  in  detail  and  in 
spirit."  —  The  Dial. 

The  Crisis  Illustrated 

"A  charming  love  story  that  never  loses  its  interest.  .  .  .  The  intense 
political  bitterness,  the  intense  patriotism  of  both  parties,  are  shown 
understandingly."  —  Evening  Telegraph,  Philadelphia. 

Coniston  Illustrated 

"  A  lighter,  gayer  spirit  and  a  deeper,  tenderer  touch  than  Mr.  Churchill 
has  ever  achieved  before.  .  .  .  One  of  the  truest  and  finest  transcripts 
of  modern  American  life  thus  far  achieved  in  our  fiction."  —  Chicago 
Record'Herald. 

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Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


MR.  ROBERT  HERRICK'S  NOVELS 


Cloth,  extra,  gilt  tops,  each,  $1.50 


A  Life  for  a  Life 

"  It  is  fairly  safe  to  prophesy  that  it  will  in  time  take  its  place  among  the 
books  that  have  influenced  national  thought  and  sentiment." — Living  Age. 

Together 

"  An  able  book,  remarkably  so,  and  one  which  should  find  a  place  in  the 
library  of  any  woman  who  is  not  a  fool."  —  Editorial  in  The  New  York 
American. 

The  Gospel  of  Freedom 

"  A  novel  that  may  be  truly  called  the  greatest  study  of  social  life,  in  a 
broad  and  very  much  up-to-date  sense,  that  has  ever  been  contributed  to 
American  fiction." —  Chicago  Inter- Ocean. 

The  Web  of  Life 

"  It  is  strong  in  that  it  faithfully  depicts  many  phases  of  American  life, 
and  uses  them  to  strengthen  a  web  of  fiction,  which  is  most  artistically 
wrought  out."  —  Buffalo  Express. 

Jock  o*  Dreams;  or,  The  Real  World 

"  The  title  of  the  book  has  a  subtle  intention.  It  indicates,  and  is  true 
to  the  verities  in  doing  so,  the  strange  dreamlike  quality  of  life  to  the 
man  who  has  not  yet  fought  his  own  battles,  or  come  into  conscious  pos- 
session of  his  will  —  only  such  battles  bite  into  the  consciousness."  — 
Chicago  Tribune. 

The  Common  Lot 

"  It  grips  the  reader'  tremendously.  ...  It  is  the  drama  of  a  human 
soul  the  reader  watches  .  .  .  the  finest  study  of  human  motive  that  has 
appeared  for  many  a  day." —  The  World  To-day. 

The  Memoirs  of  an  American  Citizen 

Illustrated,  with  about  fifty  drawings  by  F.  B.  Masters 

"  Intensely  absorbing  as  a  story,  it  is  also  a  crisp,  vigorous  document  of 
startling  significance.  More  than  any  other  writer  to-day  he  is  giving  us 
the  American  novel."  —  New  York  Globe. 


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NOVELS,  ETC.,  BY  "BARBARA 

(MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT) 


Each,  in  decorated  cloth  binding,  $1.50 


The  Garden  of  a  Commuter's  Wife  Illustrated 

"  Reading  it  is  like  having  the  entry  into  a  home  of  the  class  that  is  the  proud- 
est product  of  our  land,  a  home  where  love  of  books  and  love  of  nature  go 
hand  in  hand  with  hearty,  simple  love  of  '  folks.'  ...  It  is  a  charming  book." 
—  The  Interior. 

People  of  the  Whirlpool  Illustrated 

"  The  whole  book  is  delicious,  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its  just  perspec- 
tive of  the  true  values  of  things,  its  clever  pen  pictures  of  people  and  customs, 
and  its  healthy  optimism  for  the  great  world  in  general."  —  Philadelphia  Even- 
ing Telegraph. 

The  Woman  Errant 

"  The  book  is  worth  reading.  It  will  cause  discussion.  It  is  an  interesting 
fictional  presentation  of  an  important  modern  question,  treated  with  fascinating 
feminine  adroitness." — Miss  JEANNETTE  GlLDER  in  the  Chicago  Tribune. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  Fox 

"  Her  little  pictures  of  country  life  are  fragrant  with  a  genuine  love  of  nature, 
and  there  is  fun  as  genuine  in  her  notes  on  rural  character."  —  Ntw  Yora 
Tribune. 

The  Garden,  You  and  I 

"This  volume  is  simply  the  best  she  has  yet  put  forth,  and  quite  too  deliciously 
torturing  to  the  reviewer,  whose  only  garden  is  in  Spain.  .  .  .  The  delightful 
humor  which  pervaded  the  earlier  books,  and  without  which  Barbara  would 
not  be  Barbara,  has  lost  nothing  of  its  poignancy."  —  Congregationalist. 

The   Open  Window.      Tales  of  the  Months. 

"A  little  vacation  from  the  sophistication  of  the  commonplace."— Argonaut. 

Poppea  of  the  Post-Office 

"  A  rainbow  romance,  .  .  .  tender  yet  bracing,  cheerily  stimulating  ...  its 
genial  entirety  refreshes  like  a  cooling  shower."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

Princess  Flower  Hat  just  Ready 

A  Comedy  from  the  Perplexity  Book  of  Barbara  the  Commuter's  Wife. 

THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


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